


pride is the devil's language

by titaniaeli



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Character Development, Crack Relationships, Crossdressing, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Drabble Collection, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Headcanon, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lyon Cannot Deal with Feelings, Lyon Vastia is Better than You, Lyon is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Minor Character(s), Moral Ambiguity, Multi, Nobility, One Word Prompts, Original Character(s), Other, Protective Lyon Vastia, Sexual Content, Team as Family, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-08-09 22:43:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 40,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7820113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titaniaeli/pseuds/titaniaeli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lyon Vastia is a mage, but he is a man first and foremost. Pride before death, honor before morality. Lyon has always moved at his own pace. These are his stories.</p><p>---</p><p>#30 Sex<br/>Five times Minerva left her marks on him and one time she kissed him instead of having sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. contents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only warning I can give you before you proceed ahead is to beware of unexpected crack pairings...

> **HEADCANON PROMPT MEME**
> 
>   1. Love
>   2. Hate
>   3. Hopes
>   4. Fears
>   5. Crying
>   6. Laughter
>   7. Travel
>   8. Dreams
>   9. Music
>   10. Art
>   11. Best Friend
>   12. Worst Enemy
>   13. Hair
>   14. Eyes
>   15. Hands
>   16. Smile
>   17. Scars
>   18. Winter
>   19. Summer
>   20. Spring
>   21. Autumn
>   22. Family
>   23. Romance
>   24. Orientation
>   25. Religion
>   26. Beauty
>   27. Sleep
>   28. Home
>   29. Bedroom
>   30. Sex
>   31. Death
>   32. Birth
>   33. Safe
>   34. Affection
>   35. Guilt
>   36. Sacrifice
>   37. Vengeance
>   38. Sympathy
>   39. Secret
>   40. Scent
>   41. Memory
>   42. Loss
> 



	2. love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is superficial, but he wasn't lacking in any in that area.

Love is superficial, he mused. He sat at the bar counter, one long leg crossed over the other, body half-turned to acknowledge the rest of the customers behind him while he held a glass of whiskey in one hand. He has always fancied a stronger drink whenever he’s feeling sentimental, something he tried not to do often. 

He thought of the ‘loves’ in his life. It wasn’t that he was lacking in any in that area. It was only in the recent years that he started to appreciate what he already have. 

Team Lyon was founded on shared pain and grief of lost loved ones to Deliora when they were kids, and he had only started to really appreciate and  _ see _ them after Gray (literally) knocked the madness from his head. 

He also had Ooba Babasaama, who practically raised him to become the man he was today, who chose to accept and forgive him even though he abandoned the guild once. He knew what outsiders thought of their relationship; that they merely operated as Master and guild member, but Lyon has always seen her as something like a grandmother. 

She was, he thought, someone important in his heart. 

The town that Lamia Scale had settled in as their home also was something important. The old man that sold dango and delicious brewed green tea down the road, the young florist girl that blushed every time he walked past on the way to the guild, the healer apprentice that greeted him cheerily whenever he came to pick up potions and herbs for Ooba, and the neighbours that lived beside his house... For each passing day, as he came to understand and learned more about his townspeople, they became people that he would lay his life down for. 

When it came to the romantic relationships in his life, Lyon could admit that it was pretty dismal. He was a hard man, sometimes cold and standoffish to strangers, and life had made him jaded and cynical. He doesn’t trust easily, unwilling to allow anyone to come close enough to know him intimately. 

Sex was a different matter; it was simply physical pleasure with no need for any love with your partner. He wasn’t arrogant enough to say that he could get anyone, but at least he knew he was attractive enough to easily get a bed partner for a night.

Love, he mused again, was superficial to him. He has typical puppy crushes with cute girls that he met in his life, but he has never imagined a life of marriage with any of them. He wondered if he’ll ever commit to anyone in his life, as unlikely as it sounded to him at the moment.

He swiveled in his stool, beckoned for the bartender for a refill and let the sound of soft jazz music lulled him into an ephemeral peace. 

When the bartender came to refill, and he moved to pay, he was stopped with a small smile and a nod.

“It has already been paid for by that lady in the corner.” The ice clinked gently in the glass as the bartender moved to serve another customer. 

Lyon blinked, looked over to see a pretty redhead grinning shyly into her drink. He considered for a moment before he stood up and joined her table. 


	3. hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gray dies, and this time, there's no coming back.
> 
> Fairy Tail chapter 335 alternate ending.

_“GRAY!”_

It was too late, the laser beam had shot through Gray’s body before finally piercing through his head. For a long second, Lyon froze in his steps, despite his earlier warning to Gray and Juvia to concentrate on the battle.

Jura once spoke of the five stages of grief one experienced after losing a loved one. Lyon felt the first step of denial creeping up immediately, despite the scream that tore through his throat. It was his fault, his fault _his why wasn’t he faster and more alert--_

He could see the beam had pierced straight through skull and brain matter. Gray’s face was a mess of blood and bone and in spite of the gory sight, Lyon could not take his eyes off the scene. Denials and pleads stumbled from his lips as he weakly called for Chelia, but he knew that saving Gray was out of the question even for a healer of her calibre.

The miniature dragons converged closer upon them during their brief inattention, and Lyon’s head snapped over at the movements of these monsters. He felt his anger surged, and ice immediately spread from his feet.

He could not bear to see the unmoving body anymore, but he still found it hard to rip his gaze away to meet the dragons. It was like he still couldn’t accept Gray’s death.

 _That,_ Jura’s voice whispered _, is also part of the grieving process._

But had he not grieved enough for the last seven years for this stupid punk? There’s still an entire lifetime for Gray to repay back the heartbreak he had given Lyon for the last few years. It’s not fair, he thought. He had only just gotten Gray back.

With every step away from Gray’s body, he felt his heart break further. The hysterical cries of Juvia’s echoing in his ears, Lyon faced the dragons with a building rage and grief welling in his chest, growing so huge that he feared it would overspill and cut everyone around him like splintered glass.

Lyon felt despair crawled at his throat, hot and raw and itchy, and he wailed his grief into the sky. His magic erupted into a shockwave, turning everything an eye-searing _white_.

For taking Gray away, he’s going to make the whole world bleed for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always love to explore the darker aspects of Lyon's heart. Be prepared to see more of them.


	4. hopes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Tanabata, also known as the "star festival", takes place on the 7th day of the 7th month of the year, when, according to a Chinese legend, the two stars Altair and Vega, which are usually separated from each other by the milky way, are able to meet._
> 
> Lamia Scale joins Sabertooth for a celebration of Tanabata.

Tanabata was a festival widely celebrated by Sabertooth Guild. Well, it’s celebrated _everywhere_ in Fiore, but it was said that the Founder of Sabertooth had been an avid lover of partying and women and booze, and he had placed a great importance on the celebration of every festival, minor or major.

Ever since Jiemma’s departure, Sabertooth had regained back its former light, the guild flourishing under Sting’s new rule. It was better for everyone, really.

The town of Sabertooth seemed to have transform drastically overnight. Colourful streamers greeted them the moment they stepped off the train, and as they walked down the streets, they were met with dozens of even more brightly-coloured and gaudy streamers decorating the sides of every shop houses. Paper decorations, beautifully folded and patterned with butterflies and birds and _koi_ fishes hung directly above their heads. The sky was awashed with a gentle tinge of orange, the sun descending slowly across the horizon.

Chelia rushed off ahead with Sherry, starry eyes and already in a festive mode.

“Lyon-san!” Despite the crowd and noise, the ice-make mage could still make out the voice calling his name. He peered over to see Sting and his partner, Rogue, waving at them.

Lyon headed over to the pair of Dragon Slayers and their feline partners.

“Sting, Rogue,” He nodded genially. “Thank you for inviting Lamia Scale.”

“The more, the merrier, right?” Sting waved his hand impatiently, a bright smile adorning his face. “Anyway, since it’s Tanabata, you guys need to be dressed to fit the theme!”

 _No, actually, we don’t._ Lyon kept his thoughts to himself, nearly having to bite back the sass that threatened to burst out.

He has never dealt well with people like Sting.

“Come on, we have set up a booth renting out _kimono_!” Sting said enthusiastically, and was his eyes _sparkling_ at Lyon?

The blonde reached out, seized his arm and dragged him down the streets, ignoring his weak protests. Rogue and the rest of his team followed in amusement.

Thirty minutes later, Team Lyon was dressed in traditional costumes, mirroring the rest of the townspeople.

The girls were, of course, dressed in matching pale pink kimonos, although Sherry chose a simple sunset orange obi while Chelia selected a dark red obi with a smattering of blooming lilies stitched painstakingly into the fabric instead. The men’s choices were bland compared to their female teammates, but it wasn’t as if they were trying to stand out anyway.

Lyon’s own choice was fairly inconspicuous, a soft cotton yukata in navy blue and black lining. A light powder blue haori draped over his thin shoulders, and his hair was forcefully brushed down for once by a determined Sherry.

“Lyon-sama, do you want to hang your wish on the bamboo tree?” Yukino asked, who looked positively stunning in her forest green ensemble. “Minerva-sama and I will be going to hang our wishes first before we explore the festival later.”

“Hang my wish?” He questioned, staring at the two women in confusion.

“Have you not celebrate Tanabata before?” Minerva raised a brow at him, but there was nothing condescending in her expression. She could be really pretty when she’s not sneering haughtily, he admitted. A part of him was still not used to the dramatic change of the dark-haired woman, so he was still a little wary of her. “People write their wishes on a piece of paper and hang them up on a bamboo tree.”

“What’s the point?” He asked, even more confused, but he followed them, curious of this strange tradition. He seldom celebrates festivals, and usually escaped them by going on a mission a week before.

“Well, they say that your wishes will come true if you write them down on pieces of paper called _tanzaku_ and hang them on bamboo branches.” Yukino explained.   

“Do they even come true?” He was ever sceptical, wondering at the effectiveness of writing down a wish to hang on a bamboo tree and thinking that it would actually come true. Perhaps it’s some twisted form of placebo effect. Maybe if you think it’ll come true hard enough, it will.

“It’s not about whether they will come true or not, Lyon-sama,” Yukino laughed softly, unfazed by his doubt. “It’s about people having a wish; simple things like wishing for a dog, or for them to pass a test, to wanting to reunite with a lost loved one. These people may be lonely and miserable, they may be happy and content with their lives, but they all hold hopes in their hearts that keep them going.”

“Here you go. Write down on the paper and just hang your wish as high as you can.” Minerva came back with three strips of coloured papers and pencils and handed them over to him and Yukino.

He delicately took the fragile paper from Minerva, and the two women quickly hunched over and started writing secretively.

_What does he wish for?_

He wished for a life of comfort, for him and his team to continue going on missions safely, for these peaceful days to continue, for Ooba to stay healthy for a long time, for Jura to visit the guild more often, for his guild to continue flourishing in greatness.

“That’s not a really selfish wish, isn’t it?” He was startled out of his musings, and felt himself stiffened at the sudden closeness of Minerva. She was peering over his shoulder, staring at the tiny scribble on the strip of paper.

He glanced down, perplexed, and realized he had written down his wish for the guild to continue flourishing for many generations.

“Selfish?” He echoed in uncertainty.

Minerva gave him a small smile. “You should write down a wish that _you_ really want for yourself.”

With those strange words, she left to hang up her own wish.

Lyon rarely thought of what he wanted for himself. He was used to taking anything he wanted after all. He looked up, taking a minute to register his surroundings and the people close by.

Apparently, during his brief preoccupation, his team had found him standing by the river and were excitedly hanging up their own wishes. He could make out the twin Dragon Slayers standing at the other side of the park with what looked like Natsu, Gray, Lucy and a couple of other Fairy Tail mages, mingling with the rest of the other different guild members.

_I want my friends to never leave me._

He erased his previous wish and wrote his new wish neatly onto the paper. This time, his handwriting was more confident and sure. He smiled slightly in amusement at how awkward his wish sounded if spoken out loud.

But he has always been a simple man, and a possessive bastard.

He smoothed out the wrinkles gently and joined Minerva’s side, tentatively giving her a smile and determined to get over his lingering fear of her.

“Are you ready?” She asked, and the beaming smile on her face eradicated any last doubts he felt towards her.

He nodded and she helped him hanged up his wish, just as the sky was lit up with an explosion of fire and colours.


	5. fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a monster going around killing his friends while he's trapped in a curse meant to show his deepest fears.

Lyon opened his eyes to pitch black, with a startling realization that he has no idea how he have gotten here. There’s a niggling feeling at the back of his mind that told him he should be panicking right now, but he remained calm. He looked down at his hands, unbearably pale in the blackness and dimly perceived that he shouldn’t be able to even see his hands.

He let his hands fall to his side and started walking, feeling inexplicably serene. He’s forgetting something, he knew, like how he has gotten here without remembering anything.

He gazed ahead, blinking in surprise when he noticed a trail of narrow path opened up in front of him. He stepped onto the pathway.

Time passed steadily. It could be hours, or days, or maybe even mere minutes, he wasn’t sure, but the pathway continued on without seeming to end. And so he walked on without stopping.

The first break of tranquillity finally came when he heard running footsteps approaching his direction. He stopped and looked out into the darkness. A figure was growing bigger as it came closer, until he could make out pink hair and sapphire blue eyes.

Sherry nearly collided into him, and up close, he could see that her gaze was blank and frantic. She stared at him without recognition, and there was a smear of red at the corner of her cheek like the blush of an apple.

“Run.” She panted and shook him hard. Her hands were bloody and she left stains of blood upon his clothes. “He’s coming! He’s coming to finish me off!”

“Who?” He felt his mouth moved and formed words, staring at her as if he was a mere spectator to her breakdown.

 _“Run!”_ She answered instead, and without glancing back, she ran off into the darkness before him.

His next interruption came in the form of a body blocking his path. The body had light brown hair, tangled and clumped with drying blood. In his hand clutched a bloodied sock.

Lyon stepped over the body and continued on, with a creeping dread that something felt very wrong.

He was forced to stop when another figure appeared in front of him. Unlike Sherry, the figure seemed to be walking slowly. This time, Lyon paused and let the other person approached him.

“Lyon,” The blue-haired man murmured. “What are you doing? Why are you not running?”

“Why should I be running?” He asked, raising a curious brow.

Yuka’s gaze was darting around nervously, as if afraid that if he lingered around for too long, whoever that’s chasing after him would catch up.

“Run before the monster catch you.” Yuka warned.

“Who’s the monster?” He asked, but the blue-haired man was long gone. It was only that he realized that Yuka had left behind a set of bloody footprints in his wake.

Lyon felt a hint of urgency seeped into his movement and he quickened his strides. He needed to go somewhere... but where? Where was he heading to anyway?

When he heard running footsteps advancing towards him rapidly, he froze and unconsciously slid into a defensive stance. He relaxed slightly when he caught sight of dark pink hair pulled into pigtails at the sides of her head. Chelia slammed right into him, not stopping in her tracks and tried to drag him along.

“Come on, Lyon! We have to go!” She shouted.

He was faintly aware that her voice should have at least echoed in the dark void they were in, but it didn’t. It was strangely muffled.

“Go where?” He demanded, a tinge of desperation coloring his voice.

Chelia looked back at him, eyes narrowed and determined. She cupped his face, her blunt nails digging into the soft flesh of his face.

“ _Wake up, Lyon!”_ She screamed.

 _But I’m not sleeping_ , he wanted to yell back, but then her face blanched in shock and her entire body jerked forward. Her eyes widened, and they looked so much like her cousin's. He couldn’t see anything other than her bewildered eyes, so huge, so _blue_. And then she gagged and threw up a river of blood over his front.

He looked down and saw the tip of a sword protruding from her chest slowly retracting back. Over Chelia’s shoulder, he saw the monster Yuka had warned him about.

There was emptiness in the dark eyes; nothing existed in them except for the thrill of a kill and the thirst for death. When it noticed him looking, its human lips, thin and crimson, stretched into a wide, vacant smile.

“Wake up, Lyon.” Chelia begged, the flesh on her face melting off. Blood oozed from every pore on her body, and a scream caught in Lyon’s throat. Then she vanished and he was standing drenched in blood.

It was hot and sticky and his soaked clothes clung to his skin. The monster watched him expectantly, as if it was waiting for him to do something. Lyon looked up and saw silver hair and slanted, dark eyes reflected in the other’s eyes. With trembling hands, a similar ice sword formed in his hands. He lifted the sword high in the air, stared at the mirror image in front of him, and swung the blade across his nightmare.

There was a sound like glass shattering in his ears, almost deafening him, and then Lyon was on his knees in soft, dewy grass. Sunlight glared down upon his dry, bloodless skin and unsoiled clothes, and he was surrounded by his frantic team. He stared up at them with wide eyes before he turned and vomited to the side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Team Lyon (and Chelia, apparently) is on a mission and Lyon accidentally triggered a curse that traps the victim in their head surrounded by their deepest fears. Take it as you will.


	6. crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just like that, ten years were gone, wasted in trying to destroy a demon already long dead. Nothing left but bitterness and heartbreak and the tears of the ocean on his cheeks.

The night he and Gray parted ways from Galuna Island, Lyon left his team’s side and returned to the mainland on his own. He did leave a note behind for Sherry to inform the rest, that he wished to be alone for a while. The Sherry back then had obeyed his wishes to be left alone, although somewhere down the road, the frightened and insecure girl would grow up to become a strong-willed, sharp-tongued young woman that would have hunted down Lyon despite his wishes.  

But that was _back then_ , and Sherry had obeyed his wishes and kept Yuka and Toby away from him as long as he needed.

Ten years of research and hard work and hunting down fellow Deliora survivors to accompany him on his mission all gone in a second. All his plans torn down by Ur’s spell, only to find out that Deliora was already dead and that he’d never find out if he’d surpassed his mentor.

He booked an inn in the first town he entered and took solace in the sound of waves outside his window. For a fleeting moment, he regretted choosing to lay low in a port city. Here, he could not escape the ocean far enough.

In the end, he had not accomplished anything. Gray had defeated him, had utterly decimated his plans and forced him to open his eyes to the truth in front of him.

Now he was floundering on dry land, his ambitions ripped from his stubborn hands and left without a purpose. He had betrayed Lamia Scale and abandoned his guild to take on this mission. Even when he had told Gray of his intentions to re-join a guild, he could see nowhere for him but Lamia Scale to return to. He doesn’t want to join a guild that wasn’t Lamia Scale either.

Lamia Scale was the guild that took him in back then when he had nowhere to go, after Ur’s sacrifice to stop Deliora. He wanted to repay back the debt.

But now that he has so thoroughly disappointed everyone, would they even accept him back?

He felt helplessness overwhelmed him. Sitting on the bed, staring blankly at the lines on his palms, he felt a feeling he had not felt for a long time. In his solace, he allowed his guard to fall, the façade to crack.

He wanted to hate Gray for ripping his lifelong purpose from him. Without Deliora, there was nothing for him.

His chest felt empty, heart aching and his limbs weighed down by exhaustion. He wanted to curl under the blankets and sleep forever. Perhaps it would be better for everyone, that there’s no more Lyon Vastia to fuck up anyone else’s lives.

He took a group of children just like him, broken and purposeless and craving for revenge, and led them to undertake an insane mission, and then trusting a stranger blindly after they fed him their petty lies about revenge against the demon. He had placed everyone in danger, just because he was too blind to notice Zalty’s manipulations.

He had failed his friends, and now he had lost his purpose. His intentions had been kinder once, before his anger and greed twisted his heart. He wanted to help his friends achieved closure. He wanted to finally destroy the monster that had haunted his dreams for years and stole his mentor from him. He couldn’t blame anyone because he had allowed himself to be tricked.

Some tiny part of his heart must have already known, but he was too focused on vengeance. In the light of everything, he was just a lost, sad child after all.

He felt liquid dripped onto his hands and he reached up dumbly to feel tears on his cheeks. He was _crying_? After what he had done, he cannot cry. He doesn’t deserve the luxury of tears. But the more he tried to stop, the heavier his tears fall.

His heart breaking as guilt and grief engulfed him, he let himself shattered. He imagined he smell the scent of salt and ocean and a breeze that caressed his hair, a soft whisper in the winds that spoke of forgiveness and love, but in this moment of grief, he refused to allow himself any comfort and reprieve.

 


	7. laughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Operation Make Lyon Laugh, because Lyon really doesn't laugh enough. The team might be pushing it too far when they enlisted the help of Gray and his friends though.

Lyon smirked all the time. That was a known fact to everyone. It was practically his default expression. The infuriating smirk that never failed to piss off Gray that’s constantly on his face.

He grinned sometimes, if he heard or seen something amusing. It looked like his usual smirk, but far more genuine. It made his dark eyes looked brighter with the spark of mirth in them.

He smiled far less, and Gray was one of the few privileged to have seen it, even though it was not directed at him. Lyon’s smiles were scarce, and difficult to coax out. It gentled the creases around his eyes and softened the sharpness on his face. Gray has seen him smiled at Wendy (with fondness), at Toby (with exasperation), at Chelia (with quiet affection), although the latter had not noticed. It was a little like seeing the moon dared to show the entirety of its face once every month.

And so when Chelia had suggested a plan to make Lyon _laugh_ , of all things, he had hesitated and mulled over her idea instead of outright protesting and sneering about how utterly stupid it was.

It had been Wendy’s birthday a few days ago, and the youngest Dragon Slayer had wanted to invite Team Lyon. She had gotten close to them during her time with Lamia Scale, and had regarded all of them as important as her family in Fairy Tail.

None of them had yet to leave Magnolia, so Chelia had wanted to start the plan with Wendy’s help. And that was how Gray and Juvia (who had overheard) were roped in to help with Operation Make Lyon Laugh.

“I have been searching for jokes, Chelia.” Wendy said earnestly, showing the older girl a pile of joke books she had acquired from the guild library.

“Um,” Gray interjected awkwardly. Because. He doesn’t think Lyon would be very impressed with ‘knock, knock’ jokes.

But Wendy was too excited and ignored him, immediately waving Lyon over when he walked into the guild.

“Good morning, Wendy.” Lyon greeted as he approached their table. His smirk faded, and for a moment, there was a soft smile as he looked at Wendy. It was gone in the next blink, so fast that Gray swore he had imagined it.

“Lyon-san, have you had breakfast?” There was an intensely focused look in her eyes that caused Lyon to pause and stare at her.

“Not yet?” He phrased it as a question, unnerved by the look in her eyes.

“I took a mission to help out a waitress the other day, Lyon-san.” She said out of nowhere, smiling. “So we were serving breakfast when this mother and her little boy walked in. I went to greet them and asked what they would like. Guess what the boy said?”

“I don’t know.” Lyon said honestly, but there an indulgent smile playing on his lips, faint and almost non-existent.

“I WISH TO DEVOUR THE UNBORN.” Wendy said in a rather impressive bellow.

The guild paused whatever they were doing and stared at her. Natsu, sitting a few tables away, snorted out a burst of flame and laughed. Apparently, he was the only one who got the joke and found it funny.

“Apparently, he was asking for eggs.” Wendy continued gravely.

Lyon blinked at her.

She seemed to deflate at his lack of reaction. “It’s not funny?”

“Sorry, Wendy... Was it meant to be?” He asked apologetically.

The young Dragon Slayer withered in embarrassment.

“Of course it is, Lyon. Honestly!” Sherry’s laugh was grating and high-pitched as she punched his arm. “Don’t you have a sense of humour! The kid wanted to eat the unborn of chickens! Eggs, get it?!”

Lyon gave her a strange look, not noticing Yuka’s exasperated sigh behind his back.

“I thought you love animals. You just declared you wanted to become a vegetarian a week ago, and you find consuming the dead foetus of chickens funny?” He asked blankly. Wendy’s face gained a greenish tinge of horror.

 _This is disastrous_ , Gray thought and quickly punched Natsu to distract from the unravelling failure.

* * *

 

“It’s not working.” Sherry sighed, sprawled out over the table. “Why is it so hard for that grump to just laugh?”

Apparently, Natsu had found out about their plans and had wanted to join in as well. His idea failed instantly when he pounced on Lyon in an attempt to tickle the Ice-make mage. He was still sporting the huge bruise on his left cheek. Wendy had refused to heal his bruise, still despondent her idea had not worked, and Chelia had refused because she found it funny.

“We’re not trying hard enough.” Juvia said firmly. Her pun jokes had failed as well.

“What about dressing up?” Toby proposed, cackling when they turned to look at him. “Like, imagine Gray in a dress.”

He hooted with laughter while Juvia started dripping blood from her nose. Gray gave her a disturbed look.

“Great idea, Toby!” Chelia crowed, standing up abruptly. “If we dressed up in weird costumes, he’s sure to laugh.”

“We have some leftover costumes from Halloween.” Natsu piped up, a hand cradling a pack of ice on his bruise.

The group exchanged grins and dashed off towards the backroom to dig up the old costumes.

The idea had worked, but on the wrong target. The guild went into a fit of laughter when they saw Natsu dressed as Happy, although the blue tights with the tail and the bare midriff was so indecent that the poor Exceed was wailing in horror and begging him to take it off. Gray’s maid dress was too fucking short that everyone could see the hem of his boxers and the caked on makeup was hideous. The smeared crimson lipstick and the blue eyeshadow make him looked more like a clown, a product of Chelia’s handiwork.

Juvia walked in with pigtails and too long pants and promptly tripped over them, landing face down on the ground. Her costume wasn’t funny or weird, but her clumsiness cracked a table with a flailing arm and sent mugs of booze spilling over their owners.

Lyon sitting at the bar counter, looked torn between disgust and horrified.

“I’M HAPPY FROM TODAY ONWARDS.” Natsu screamed, standing atop a table. “NYAN.”

“Get down from that table, Natsu!” Erza roared, gesturing frantically at his lower body. “And cover up your bottom, you fool!”

The tights were far too fitting and thin for Natsu.

“NO WAY.” Natsu grinned manically. “I’M NO LONGER NATSU. YOU CAN’T COMMAND ME ANYMORE, ERZA.” Pause. “MEOW.”

Lucy was hiding her flaming face with a cackling Cana, not wanting to look at her crazy best friend and his insane antics.

Erza’s face went as red as her hair and Gray tried to make his escape as he saw the edge of her silhouette rippling to change into a battle armour.

He tripped over Juvia’s foot and went flying into a table surrounded by the Raijinshu.

As chaos descended over the guild, Lyon could hear Natsu ‘nyan, nyan’ mockingly and Erza’s threats of maiming over the dust and flying furniture. He stared at the mayhem, before his lips slowly twitched. He dodged a table leg, hilarity and amusement welling deep in his chest to finally pull out a laugh from his lips. It was brief, but it lighted up his features. For an instant, he looked like a different person.

Too bad the ones who had been trying so hard to make him laugh did not see as they were too busy fighting.

Hidden behind the bar counter from the other end, Makarov smirked as he lowered his camera. Luckily, Lyon had not noticed the flash of light. Guess he won some money from Ooba.

That old hag should know better to never bet against Fairy Tail.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, that 'unborn joke' was taken from tumblr. So I'm not credited with coming that up. Apparently, it actually happened tho.


	8. travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyon had not accounted for such a thing like language barrier when he entered Bosco to hunt down a target. Thankfully, he ran into a pair of familiar faces who might be able to help.

Lyon was wasting time here. No, _his_ time was being wasted here. He was on an S-Class mission to bring in a criminal, Frank Barnes, a rather notorious drug dealer in Fiore. Barnes has been evading capture for almost two weeks, and just six hours ago, he entered Bosco’s borders in an attempt to flee from Fiore law.

Most mages would have given up on the mission in fear of breaking international laws overseas, but Lyon was _not_ most mages. He was far too prideful to give up so easily when his guild’s reputation was at stake. Besides, he _never_ let go of a prey, and always strove for a 100% mission success. Well, sometimes he had to improvise; plans never go as planned after all, but what mattered wasn’t the process. To him, the end results were more important. Other mages regarded his ‘the end justified the means’ method as despicable, but he has always avoided harming civilians and causing property damage. Other than that, he found it perfectly reasonable as he hurt no one other than his intended targets.

Fiume was the first city upon entering Bosco through Fiore, and while Bosco was a rather militaristic kingdom compared to Fiore, they still allowed outsiders to visit as tourists. Consequently, there should have been station staff able to communicate in Fiorean as well.

Guess it was his unlucky day.

He wasn’t the only one getting frustrated. Mages, particularly from Fiore, were observed more closely when they entered Bosco. That’s why most mages stayed away from Bosco as a vacation spot, even though they have rather beautiful mountain ranges and supposedly famous natural hot springs that was rumored to help relieve high blood pressure and lower stress and anxiety. The station staff at the counter was speaking in a fast-paced accent of their native language, gesturing wildly with his hands at Lyon in frustration.

Lyon could feel his patience slowly waning, and perhaps the other man could feel it, because he shivered from the cold and took a wary step back. Lyon exhaled sharply to calm himself down, wondering if it’s possible to explain his mission here using drawings, although his art of a pet dog was once mistaken as a squirrel.

“What’s the matter here?” A gruff voice spoke over his shoulder, the annoyed growl vibrating against Lyon’s skin.

“Lyon-sama?” A familiar woman peered at him around the tall, scowling Dragon Slayer behind him. Her face brightened up when he blinked at the both of them in surprise. “Are you in trouble?”

“No, we just have difficulty in communication.” He said dryly.

Gajeel glanced at the station staff, the scowl etched deep into his visage. The other man visibly cowered at the harsh look in crimson eyes.

“He’s asking what you’re here for.” Gajeel answered, having caught the conversation as he was approaching the two men.

He dug into his pocket and revealed a crumpled bounty of Frank Barnes.

“I’m chasing this man down. It appears that Barnes has entered Bosco territory a couple of hours ago,” Lyon sighed, unable to resist shooting the station staff an irritated glare. “And this guy here is delaying me.”

He’s fast, but he’s not _that_ fast. He won’t be able to catch up with Barnes if the criminal managed to get on the next train, and he’s pretty sure that going further into the kingdom just to hunt a man down was going to invite trouble for Fiore. He has a feeling that he’s already breaking a couple of international laws standing here with a bounty. Gajeel glanced at the bounty picture and turned to translate to the station staff.

Lyon watched him in interest, listening to the easy and fluid manner the foreign language resonated on Gajeel’s tongue, how different he sounded in a different dialect.

“Are you here for a mission as well, Juvia-chan?” He asked, feeling his annoyance faded when he addressed the gorgeous water mage.

“We just finished a mission in Fiore early, so we thought we could drop by Bosco and check out the hot springs. Gajeel-kun was born here originally.” She enlightened. He nodded thoughtfully; that explained the language fluency.

“Alright, here you go.” Gajeel came back to their side, tossing Lyon his travel permit. He looked even surlier than before. “You’re all cleared.”

“Thank you.” He uttered in gratitude, keeping his permit away. He glanced at Juvia, giving her a small, apologetic smile. “Well, as much as I’d love to stay with you, Juvia-chan, I have to go catch this guy.”

He pivoted to leave, feeling genuine regret. Juvia was a smart woman, and he’d loved to hang out more with her, even though her beauty tended to distract him. But he has a job to do.

He turned and nearly rammed face first into Gajeel’s pointy jaw. The Dragon Slayer has an ominous grin on his face, arms folded over his chest as he blocked Lyon’s way.

“We’re going with you.” Gajeel declared. “I missed the chance to beat the shit out of anyone in my last mission.”

 _For such an **idiotic** reason. _ Lyon nearly rolled his eyes.

“Gajeel-kun!” Juvia reprimanded, but when she looked over at him, she was smiling in agreement. “Juvia does not agree with Gajeel-kun’s motives, but Juvia would like to accompany Lyon-sama on his mission as well. Juvia does not feel at ease allowing you to go off alone in Bosco.”

By the time she has finished speaking, her expression was severe. It reminded him a little of Sherry when she’s in her mother-hen mode.

“It’s not necessary.” He objected immediately. He enjoyed working alone, and the only other people he’d accept working with were his own team. Even if it’s Juvia-chan...

When she pouted, he revised his thoughts. Maybe it’s because he’s afraid that he might be distracted that he doesn’t want to work with her.

“I refuse your refusal.” Gajeel retorted rudely. Spinning on his heels, he stomped off, leaving the both of them to stare at his retreating back in silence.

“It’s a good idea.” Juvia spoke up. “Gajeel-kun’s sense of smell is far stronger than a normal human. He could track down Barnes faster.”

Lyon exhaled in irritation, although it was not directed at her. He was far more vexed with himself, that he needed help in catching one simple drug dealer.

“Okay.” He relented in defeat.

* * *

 

As Juvia had predicted, with Gajeel’s superior sense of smell, the three of them caught up easily with Barnes and captured the man. Once they had passed him over to the authorities for custody, Juvia had immediately invited him along on their impromptu trip.

“Soaking in a hot spring is a great way to de-stress after a long mission!” Juvia had exclaimed loudly when he had insisted on heading straight back to Fiore. Clearly, she had underestimated his stubbornness. In the end, Gajeel tire of her whining and had grabbed him around the waist to throw over his shoulder.

It wasn’t easy handling a personality like Gajeel, but from their short time together, Lyon supposed he could somewhat understood how he worked.

He _did_ enjoy the hot spring, although he had halfheartedly put up a fight. He was tired and achy after chasing Barnes for the last two weeks.

When they they parted ways in Fiore, Lyon returned to Lamia Scale with two set of numbers in his pocket.  


	9. dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He once dreamed of becoming the strongest and surpassing his mentor. Now, his dreams were a lot more simpler, but no less ambitious. He has always been a greedy man after all. AU future fic.

He has always hated the smell of disinfectant in the hospital. It was a too clean stench that seemed to suck out any energy, and if Lyon was feeling metaphorical, he would say it’s the scent of death.

“Lyon?” Chelia’s head was peering out from behind the door. Her eyes were rimmed red, tears still clinging to her lashes. “Master is ready to see you.”

He exhaled, gathering his nerves as he stood up and entered the private room. Jura was standing in a corner, arms folded across his chest. To Lyon, the older man looked like he was hugging himself in an attempt to protect from the grief. Toby was sniffling loudly and clutching onto Sherry like a child. He looked up when Lyon entered, met his eyes and burst into further tears.

Then, he shoved past Lyon, door slamming behind him. Sherry smiled bitterly at him, a hand brushing against his shoulder as she chased after Toby. Yuka remained behind, closing his eyes against the outbreak of emotions.

“Lyon?” Ooba croaked out softly from the bed.

The Ice-make mage took one shuddering breath and sat down on the empty chair beside the bed. He reached out for the feeble, wrinkled hand laying on her side and felt spindly fingers entangled with his.

Chelia’s presence was warm and solid at his back, and he briefly wondered at how much the once young, precocious child had grown. Losing her magic was the final straw, he mused. It had forced her to grow up and mature rapidly, becoming one of the pillars for the guild.

“Are you crying, brat?” Ooba chuckled, squinting his eyes at him. “I’m not dead yet. Don’t go crying before I leave.”

“Shut up. I’m not crying.” Lyon snapped back instinctively. His eyes were stinging and he had to force himself to remain his usual impassive self. Stupid old woman, speaking like she’s just going on a vacation.

“My soft-hearted boy,” Ooba murmured in a tired sigh, her grip tightening around his hand for a moment. “You have always tried to become ice, but you possessed such a gentle heart.”

“Don’t try to make me sound better than I am.” He frowned slightly.

Ooba laughed in response, before she was cut off by a loud cough. The sound grated against his ears and he felt himself stiffened up.

Ooba Babasaama had been a brilliant mage when she was young, brimming full of talent and life. But the years of missions had taken its toll on her body. Even when she was a young woman, she had a small, petite body. She was never particularly strong physically, although her magic power had more than make up for it.

The years of abuse and injuries had worn down her body, and as age slowly stole her vitality, it gotten harder for her to fend off all the vicious illnesses that attacked her weakening body.

“Lyon,” Ooba wheezed, and he reached out to try to soothe her pain by rubbing against her back. “I’m entrusting this guild to you to look after.”

His hand stilled as he registered her meaning. He met her steady gaze, and despite the pain in her eyes, they were full of resolve and pride.

“No,” He denied. “I can’t become Guild Master. Choose someone else. I will not make a suitable Master...” His voice faltered. “I’ll ruin this guild.”

“You’re not the boy you once were decades ago, Lyon.” Ooba said softly. He shook his head. He was still too hard, too cruel and headstrong to ever become a leader. He might have thought of becoming Guild Master once when he was younger, but he realized he was more contented to serve behind a greater leader.

“Jura-san would make a better Guild Master than I.” He objected. For years, it had been the general consensus that Jura would be the new Guild Master of Lamia Scale after Ooba passed away or retired. After all, Ooba had been grooming the man back before he had joined the Magic Council.

“I’m old, Lyon, and I have been growing older in the past ten years. I might be Guild Master, but everyone in the guild looks to you in times of trouble. The townspeople look up to you and the other mages respects you. You’ve changed a lot over the years.” Ooba smiled, clearly reading the thoughts on his face. “Don’t dismiss your own ability over Jura. I know... that you’ll become a far greater Guild Master than I or my predecessors.”

She stretched out a shaky hand, pressing it against the wet tears on his cheeks. He leaned forward, grabbing her hand to press his forehead against their fists.

“I trust you,” She breathed. “That you’ll protect everyone in the guild no matter what it takes... because that’s the sort of person you are. But... don’t ever forget that gentleness in your heart. You have friends by your side. Lean on them.”

“Yes.” He choked. 

He has lost people to death before; to war, to sacrifice, to love, and they all hurt every time. But they were all quick and painless, fleeting even. Their deaths had happened so swiftly that he was not given time to try to save them. He could fight off injuries and enemies, but no matter how strong he had become, he could not defeat old age.

Ooba’s death was quiet, unlike the vivacious woman she was in life. One blink and she had already passed on. Nothing beautiful or profound about her death.

Chelia wailing her anguish behind him was the only reason he knew she was gone. The shake of tears trembled through his limbs and he closed his eyes tightly, surrendering himself to grief.

* * *

 

The funeral had been small and simple. It was, he thought, what Ooba would have wanted. She lacked the patience and would have gotten fed up by the crowd. As it was, the ceremony was uncomplicated and brief as well.

There was not a single dry eye around. Ooba was much loved by all who knew her, even outside the guild.

Lyon stood at the back of the ceremony, and the frigid look on his face was enough to scare any well-wisher away. He was in no mood to talk, so he does what he does best. He watched over the guild silently as he always did, and to make sure no idiot accidentally made any of his guild member cry because of an insensitive remark.

With the presences of the other Guild Masters like Laxus and Sting, and a small contingent each from their respective guild, Lyon was going to make sure the ceremony goes smoothly without any hysterics or breakdown.

He just wanted to get everything over with so he could return home and grieve properly.

Lyon have always thought himself a simple man, no matter what others thought of him. It was no fault of his that he was surrounded by morons.

He was Guild Master now, no matter how much he wished that he wasn’t – or was one in different circumstances. He has a much bigger duty now, and he’s not going to run from it.

Lamia Scale had been one of the top guilds. It still was, but it had stagnated ever since the war with the Alvarez Empire. Unlike Fairy Tail and Sabertooth, who was constantly making impact on the world, Lamia Scale seemed to have remain the same.

Still strong and reliable, of course. But the complacency had make the guild dull.

Ooba would be happy to see some changes, he mused. He has no idea what sort of Guild Master he would become, but he knew that making her wishes come true was the least he could do.

He would make this guild greater than ever, and as long as there’s even a single person that calls Lamia Scale ‘home’, this guild will not fall. 

 


	10. music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He would never imagine making friends with someone like Gajeel Redfox. They were far too different to ever get along, but music has a magic on its own when it comes to bringing people together.

Music in Fiore was celebrated widely by both mages and civilians. In a world where magic rampaged, whether to terrify or to protect the weak, everyone found their peace in music, the tunes soothing the mind and healing the heart. It’s a form of escape from a hectic world like theirs.

That’s why music shops could be found in every town and city. People could purchase recording lacrima that, instead of recording images like a movie lacrima, recorded music instead.

Lyon has never been a fan of any particular music group, although he held a certain fondness for soft rock and jazz. It was just after a mission that he found time to drop by a music shop and rifled through their rather pitiful collection. Well, he supposed he shouldn’t be expecting much in a rural town like this.

He was going through the ‘A’ aisle in the jazz section when he suddenly felt a presence joined him. The shop had been empty when he first entered, and the salesgirl was hunched over a book in a corner, half-dozing against her fist. He doubted she even realized he had entered the shop. He glanced up to see a pair of menacing red eyes glaring at him.

“Oh,” He said out loud in mild surprise. “It’s you.”

And then he returned to examining this particular shelf above him where he thought he spotted a familiar name.

 _“What’s with the lame reaction?!”_ Gajeel growled.

 _So noisy_ , he thought in annoyance. He ignored the other man as he reached out to grab the lacrima off the shelf. He wondered what the shop management was thinking, placing all the lacrima so high up the shelves.

It was no surprise that the shop has no business, if they were going to place all their popular band music lacrima so high up.

“Too short to reach?” Gajeel taunted in amusement. Lyon felt the cold surface of the crystal lacrima on his palm as he gathered it from the shelf. Once he had it secured, he swung around to give the Fairy Tail mage a dirty look.

“You’re not that much taller than me!” He snapped, and then felt foolish a second later. Was he really going to argue over such trivial matters? It’s not like he was terribly short. He was of a respectable average height, although his lean built tended to make him looked smaller than most male mages.

Rolling his eyes, he walked away to make his payment at the cashier. Unfortunately, the only way out was to go through Gajeel. He was so engrossed in his search that he hadn’t even realized he had secluded himself right at the back of the shop.

“You listen to Art Hawkins?” Gajeel’s sharp eyes caught the title of the music lacrima in his grip. “Is that the first or second album?”

His tone seemed to change, a gleam entering his crimson eyes as he leaned forward into Lyon’s personal space. In this tiny, dark space, he was far too close for Lyon’s comfort, and he scowled fiercely at the Dragon Slayer.

“It’s her fourth album.” He replied. “I have been looking for this for a while.”

Gajeel stepped aside to let him pass, and he felt a little of the pressure in his chest lifted. As a private person, he just didn’t like anyone unfamiliar to get into his personal space, which was a little ironic, as he didn’t seem to notice his stripping in public and around strangers – a habit he sought to break. Thank god he wasn’t as bad as Gray. At least he hasn’t gained a reputation as a perverted stripper.

“Her fourth album was the worst.” Gajeel sniffed. “She had a throat infection before the recording and it affected her singing.”

Lyon’s cheeks flushed in irritation and he couldn’t resist biting back, “And what would _you_ know about her singing?”

Gajeel glared back at him. He could almost see the sparks flying between both of them, but he refused to back down. Gajeel was physically intimidating, with arms that looked like he could snap a man’s neck without any effort. But in close combat, Lyon could hold his own easily as well.

Finally, Gajeel was the first to break eye contact. Lyon felt a flush of satisfaction, a smirk curling across his lips. As if this meat-for-brains Dragon Slayer could out-stubborn _him_.

“Art Hawkins is my favorite singer.” Gajeel admitted grudgingly. “I have been a fan of hers ever since she debuted.”

That was seven years ago, long before half of Fairy Tail’s strongest was placed in stasis sleep from a spell.

“Me too.” Lyon confessed as well. “I supposed you missed out a lot during the seven years.”

There was a mixture of disappointment and pining on Gajeel’s countenance. Despite himself, Lyon felt a flash of sympathy for the other man.

“She married two years ago.” He divulged suddenly. He has no idea why he did that. He just wanted to pay for his recording lacrima and leave the shop without any interruption, but the dispirited gaze in Gajeel’s eyes irked him for some reason.

 _“What?”_ Gajeel yelped. “Which bastard did she marry to?”

Lyon snorted at the blatant heartbreak on the other man’s face. At least the idiotic kicked puppy look was gone. It made Lyon pissed to see such a wretched expression on the usually tough guy.

“It was a quiet affair. The media didn’t really cover much over the wedding.” He explained, and even after he made his payment and left the shop, Gajeel was still following after him, demanding questions about his favorite singer.

* * *

“Oi, Lyon,” Toby crashed into his room, nearly knocking over the pile of books on his desk. He closed his eyes and prayed for patience. He really wished Toby’s renovations would be completed already so he could get back his peace. “You have a mail here!”

“Give it over.” He growled, stretching out his hand. “And pick up the damn chair you just kicked over.”

He snatched the mail from Toby. Unsealing the envelope, a single VIP ticket to Art Hawkins’s upcoming concert fell out. There was a date and time on a separate piece of paper. No name was written, but there was no need for that when Lyon already knew who sent it.

His lips tilted up in a smile filled with pleasant surprise. He hasn’t been planning to go after he heard that the tickets were all sold out. After Jura left the guild to join the Magic Council, he had to take over the workload to help out Ooba, making his schedule for the next few months rather packed.

But he supposed he could take a day off to enjoy a concert with a friend.


	11. art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Can I paint you?"_
> 
> Because of his magic, he was constantly challenging himself and practicing his skills by painting whatever he could find. His favorite has always been portrait painting, and while looking for a muse one day, Reedus Jonah came upon one Lyon Vastia.

Reedus loved his art. He loved the way it allowed him to protect his friends, and how he’s able to bring a smile to people’s faces. Art was a miracle, a precious gift from God, and he took enormous pride in his artistic ability.

He dabbled in many sorts of genres, but his favourite would always remain the same. Portraying human emotions in his paintings pushed him to challenge his limits, so that’s why Reedus loved portrait painting.

Of course, for an artist like him, the most horrifying thing that could ever happen... was art block.

Whatever Reedus drew, he found himself groaning in frustration at the dark lines on the paper, reaching up to crush it between his fingers.

“What’s wrong with you?” Gray asked, frowning at the building pile of crushed paper scattered on the floor.

“I have nothing to draw!” He moaned. “Every time I tried to paint something, it feels like I’m missing something... I don’t feel satisfied at all...”

Gray raised a brow, glancing at an uncompleted painting of Mirajane smiling sweetly up at him. He couldn’t find anything wrong with it. It was still an incredible rendition of their bar mistress, but he wasn’t really an art person anyway so perhaps he wasn’t the best critic.

“Hm,” But he didn’t like seeing a comrade upset either, so he wanted to try to help. “Why don’t you get out of the guild? Since you can’t seem to find any inspiration in here...”

“Oui, you’re right...” Reedus smiled, before picking up his brushes and palette. “I hope I can find a muse outside...”

“You will.” Gray grinned. “You’re Reedus Jonah of Fairy Tail. When you come back at the end of the day, I’ll be expecting another masterpiece from you!”

The artist blushed in pleasure, looking really pleased and touched.

“Oui, so look forward to it, Gray-san!” He beamed back, feeling really fired up now. Packing his supplies into his art bag, he left the guild brimming with motivation.

Three hours later, and four stations away from Magnolia, Reedus was wandering the streets of Margaret Town, his earlier motivation dwindled from his exhaustion. Along his way, he had painted flowers, animals and a few interesting and attractive people. But they all seemed to lack something...

Now he was sitting outside a coffee shop, a paper cup of cappuccino in one hand and his sketchbook in the other. As his gaze wandered, he was doodling a dog in his sketchbook.

“—Come on, give me back my sock already!” Reedus looked up and recoiled instinctively as a blur shot past and nearly ripped his top hat from his head. He almost dropped his coffee in his hurry to grab his hat.

“This will teach you to mess with my shampoo, you shitty mutt!” The woman yelled, waving a white piece of rag in her hand.

Reedus recognized her instantly, that striking pink hair and blue eyes and charming laugh. Sherry Blendy was a woman of conspicuous beauty, and while not the most beautiful he has ever seen, she still exuded a sort of aura that commanded attention from men and women alike.

He had forgotten that Margaret Town was where Lamia Scale Guild resided.

“I hate you, bitch!” Toby shrieked angrily, tearing after her. “Give it back!”

Laughter followed after the two bickering mages, and Reedus’s gaze was tore from the lovely woman. Walking behind them in a more sedately pace was their two male teammates; Lyon Vastia and Yuka Suzuki.

“Stop them already, Lyon.” Yuka huffed, shaking his head. “They’re making far too much noise in public.”

“Toby should know better than to mess with Sherry’s beauty products in the first place.” Lyon laughed, and Reedus was struck at how utterly different he looked then. “Maybe this will teach Toby a lesson.”

At Yuka’s exasperated sigh, Lyon chuckled again. There was a loud crash up front, and then Toby was screaming bloody murder. Yuka groaned and hurried his pace, heading towards the commotion. Lyon smiled at his retreating back, shoving his hands into his pockets as he continued on slowly.

Reedus tossed his coffee into the bin and rushed after the other mage. If he’s going to grab an opportunity, it would be when Lyon’s alone now.

“Wait up, Lyon-san!” He cried out, catching up with the Ice-make mage.

Lyon turned and blinked at him in surprise and confusion. There was such an array of emotions on his face, flashing across his sharp, lovely face – and all in the span of seconds. Reedus wanted to capture all that emotions and paint them. He wondered why Gray has always called the older man stoic, because there were so many beautiful emotions in this man’s eyes.

“Can I paint you?” He blurted out unthinkingly.

There was a beat of silence, where Lyon stared at him with suspicion and uncertainty. Reedus felt his cheeks heated up in embarrassment. He was never this forward usually, and to Lyon, he was probably just a stranger.

“Sorry, I’m Reedus Jonah from Fairy Tail.” He introduced himself hastily.

A touch of recognition entered dark eyes, and Lyon relaxed. The lines on his forehead smoothed out, and his smile became more genuine.

“Ah, you’re that mage who uses Pict Magic, right?” He guessed. “I remember you painted Chelia once. She still has your painting on her wall.”

“Is that so?” Reedus flushed, pride welling up in his chest. He always felt unbearably happy when people kept his paintings as mementos. It was one of the highest forms of praise to an artist.

“You were saying just now... You want to paint me?” Lyon asked hesitantly, looking unsure of the words coming from his lips.

“Yes! I mean, if you don’t mind, Lyon-san. I have been looking for a muse for the entire day...” He sighed despondently, trailing off at the end.

“And you found your muse... in me?” Lyon sounded sceptical, and Reedus panicked for a minute, not wanting to scare off the younger man.

“Oui, I find your emotions fascinating. I want to paint them.” He calmed himself, staring at Lyon with a determined look. He has always found Lyon a little intimidating, but the smile the man had given Yuka was the deciding factor. There was something soft and gentle in his eyes, and Reedus wanted to bring those emotions alive on his canvas. “Plus, you’re really good-looking as well. I would be greatly honoured if you would allow me to paint you, Lyon-san.”

He watched Lyon floundered in his spot, and felt cold sweat broke out. If Lyon was to reject him here, he’s going to have to return to the guild emptyhanded, because he doubted he’d be able to find another muse like Lyon.

“Alright...” Lyon finally decided, but there was still a hint of hesitance on his face, like he was genuinely bewildered that Reedus wanted to paint _him_. “I suppose I can help you out, if you really couldn’t find anyone else.”

Reedus beamed.

* * *

 

“You looked really satisfied.” Gray commented that evening, a grin playing on his lips as he leaned over to peer playfully at Reedus’s face. “So I guess you found your muse after all. So, where’s your masterpiece?”

Reedus’s cheeks pinked and he pulled out the scroll shoved at the side of his bag. It was wrapped delicately in plastic, a red ribbon holding the canvas closed.

“I found my muse in Margaret Town.” He said proudly. Gray watched him broke open the wrapping carefully in bemusement, but he’s already used to the care the man treated his art.

“Oh, Lamia Scale?” Lucy piped up in curiosity, seating herself atop the table with a glass of soft drink in her hand. “So did you paint Chelia again?”

“No,” Reedus unrolled the canvas, gently brushing his fingers over the dried paint. It was unfortunate he couldn’t utilize his best canvas material, and he hoped Lyon would agree to another painting session. “I found someone else.”

“Oh!” Lucy gasped as her eyes fell on the subject of Reedus’s art.

The man was almost unrecognizable, but that’s probably because she has never seen him smile like that before.

The lake in the background shimmered from the sunlight, fishes swimming under the clear surface. The huge willow tree beside the lake was majestic and so detailed she could see every leaf that drooped towards the ground. Lucy has always admired Reedus’s talent, and how he’s able to bring out the best in everyone in every of his painting.

But gorgeous scenery aside, the subject of Reedus’s painting clearly stole the show.

Lyon’s long legs were sprawled out in front of him, ankles crossed. He was resting against the great trunk of the willow tree, and the shadow of each leaf pattern was painted on his face, half enveloping them in darkness. His eyes were half-opened, drowsy with tiredness, but there was a small smile on his lips as he watched the open lake and the bird soaring down to snatch a fish for its meal out of the waters.

Somehow, Reedus had managed to catch every emotion imaginable on Lyon’s face. There was a softness in his face, a perpetual amusement in the slight quirk of his lips – almost arrogant, but subdued at the moment. His eyes were gentle, and he looked to be in deep thought, and Lucy could just envision the man thinking of his guild mates and their shenanigans and being forever exasperated with them.

“This is beautiful, Reedus...” She murmured in awe. “You made a great comeback!”

Reedus looked immensely proud of himself. “I am only able to accomplish this because of Lyon-san. I hope he’d agree to another painting... I wanted to give this to him, but he declined and said I could keep it.”

He glanced at Gray, who had been suspiciously quiet the entire time.

“What’s wrong, Gray?” Lucy prodded.

“Nothing. I just never imagine the bastard could ever look like this...” Gray muttered, tearing his gaze from the painting.

“Well, I have half a mind to buy this from you, Reedus.” The blonde laughed. “If I’m not sure that Natsu’s going to accidentally destroy it the next time he breaks into my apartment...”

“Why the hell would you want to have a painting of that bastard for?” Gray exclaimed, staring at her as if she had grown a second head.

“Because it’s art, obviously. Even I have eyes to appreciate it.” Lucy answered sarcastically.

As the two started bickering, Reedus grinned and kept away the artwork. Gray was right; he did bring back a masterpiece after all. Whilst the artwork’s in his ownership in the meantime, he would keep it in his collection.

Lyon might have been intimidating in the beginning, but Reedus liked to think he came away from that painting session understanding the man a little more. He liked to think that they were friends now, even if he had sort of betrayed Lyon by showing the painting to Gray...


	12. best friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He might be a reserved and aloof man, but no one has ever accused him of not being a good friend before. And Ren Akatsuki of Blue Pegasus would soon learn why he should _never_ make Lyon Vastia's best friend cry.

Lyon woke up to the sound of banging on his front door. He stared at the ceiling for a couple of minutes, hoping that the noises would _go away_.

Finally, when the banging refused to relent, instead getting louder, Lyon heaved an exhausted sigh and rolled out of bed. He trudged tiredly across his living room and opened his door, coming face to face with a crying, sodden Sherry Blendy. Her mascara was smeared under her eyes, making her looked like she was sobbing black tears.

“Lyon-sama!” She wailed, lunging at him. His clothes were damp instantly, and she refused to let go, clinging tightly around his waist.

He sighed in defeat and shut the door behind them. Best to get the rain out of their faces first.

“Come on, let’s get you dry.” He patted her shoulder awkwardly. He has a feeling about why she was so upset, but he didn’t want to assume before saying anything.

Her sniffles diminished as he towelled her hair dry in the bathroom. She was sitting half-naked on his bathtub, clad only in her panties and bra. Frankly, he has seen her in all stages of undress, so he barely batted an eye when he ordered her to start stripping out of her wet clothes. Most men would murder to be in his position right now, but Sherry has always been like his sister.

“What happened?” He asked.

Sherry hiccupped loudly, eyes rimmed red with tears. She glared at the side, sulking. She fought to remain silent, but her lips wobbled dangerously.

“Is it Ren?” He questioned flatly. When her shoulders turned rigid under his hands, he exhaled and closed his eyes. “What have he done?”

“Should I break up with him?” After a long, drawn-out silence, she eventually spoke. Her voice was shaky and timid, so unlike herself. It reminded him of how she used to be; meek and self-conscious.

He didn’t like it.

“I thought you love him.” He said instead, draping the towel over her shoulders. “I thought you’ve decided that he’s The One for you.” He barely kept the sarcasm from his voice. It’s not the time now to be an asshole.

He has never liked Ren. He found the man too pretentious and flaky. He only tolerated the man because Sherry was _happy_ with him and he hadn’t want to take that happiness from her. Dislike or not, Ren Akatsuki had treated her well enough and allowed her to be her own person. It was the only reason he hadn’t say anything yet about their relationship.

“I thought _he_ love me.” She replied bitterly.

He dropped to a crouch in front of her and took her limp hands in his.

“What happened?” He repeated.

Sherry squeezed her eyes shut, dishevelled hair shadowing her face as she leaned forward to lay her forehead against his shoulder.

“Maybe I’m overthinking here, Lyon-sama. I know his job as a host means he has to entertain women. I heard him saying ‘I love you’ to a customer the other day.” She said quietly. “...He has never once said those words to me.”

His heart clenched at the heartbreak in her voice. His emotions warred between pain for his best friend and rage at the man who broke her heart.

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m just a trophy girlfriend on his arm.” She whispered. “Does he feel the same for me the way I feels for him?” She lifted a hand and rubbed at her eyes. “I know you and the others hate Ren, but I’m very happy that you guys can tolerate and accept him for my sake. You must think my love foolish, to give my heart away so willingly in such a short time. But _I love him_ , and I don’t think I want anyone else.”

“He _does_ love you.” He cupped her cheek, swiping a thumb under her eye. “And he’s an idiot if he doesn’t.”

He stood up slowly, pulling her to her feet. Gently, he guided her out of the bathroom.

“He’s a guy. He just need a kick in the head once in a while to get it through his thick head.” He assured, pushing a clean shirt into her hands. “Go to sleep and take the day off tomorrow. I promise you that everything will be fine.”

“You promise?” Sherry stared up at him with huge, wet eyes, her lips reddened from where she had chewed at it worriedly.

 _“I promise.”_ He said firmly, steering her towards his bed. “Now go to sleep.”

* * *

 

Blue Pegasus Guild was located just two stops away. It makes travel between their two guilds easy and convenient.

Lyon found himself standing in front of the showy guild at nine in the morning, back aching as he had spent the remaining night on the couch. With a controlled breath, he marched right into Blue Pegasus.

“Lyon-san!” Jenny exclaimed, surprise chasing the boredom from her face instantly. “What are you doing here so early in the morning?”

“Good morning, is Ren around?” He gave her a tight-lipped smile.

She must have sensed the tension as she hesitated and directed him to the back. He saw the bastard immediately, entertaining a young, blushing brunette. His lips curled as he nodded his thanks to Jenny and walked over to his target.

“Ren, can we talk?” He said brusquely as he stopped in front of the couple.

The dark-skinned young man stood up in surprise, faltering at the look on Lyon’s face. He nervously smiled at his client and excused himself.

The moment Ren was in striking distance, Lyon felt his self-control _snapped._ His fist lashed out and connected against the Air mage’s jaw. The guild fell silent instantly as Ren stumbled back and collapsed, holding his jaw in bewilderment.

“That was for Sherry, asshole.” He snapped. He thought he could control himself when he came to the guild looking for Ren Akatsuki, but the anger that had been churning in his chest seemed to shot straight to his head the moment his eyes rested on the Air mage. He was planning to just speak to Ren and leave. _Really._

“Do you know what happened last night at three fucking am in the morning?” He hissed angrily. “Sherry came knocking on my door soaking wet and wailing like a madwoman. She dripped puddles all over my damn floor and disturbed my sleep!”

“That’s... what you’re angry about?” Hibiki whispered in confusion. He recoiled when Lyon shot a glacial look at him.

“I don’t care if you’re going to act like a playboy, or flirt with other women at work. But if you’re going to make Sherry feel unworthy and undeserving of love, then break up with her immediately.” He snarled, his entire frame trembling. “She had grown up insecure and doubtful of herself, always thinking she needed someone’s love for approval. She became a lot better and more confident over the years, and I’ll _not_ allow you to break her like that all over again. She thinks you don’t love her!” 

“I didn’t know...” Ren murmured, eyes wide with shock. “I didn’t know she feel that way...”

“If you make her cry _again_ ,” He grabbed the front of Ren’s collar, hurling the other man to his feet. “I’ll break every bone in your face and make sure that no woman would ever look at you again.” He shook Ren roughly. _“You hear me?”_

“Yes, sir!” Ren choked out meekly, his collar seized tight around his throat. He could feel his face turning blue from the lack of air, but he did not dare to ask Lyon to let him down. A broken jaw hurts enough.

“If she’s not smiling and acting like the usual lovesick fool she is by the end of today, don’t ever think of appearing within ten feet of me again.” He warned. “I swear I’ll kill you.” He leaned closer, straight up into Ren’s face. “No one will find your body _ever_.”

Ren’s tanned skin looked strange when it sickened into a pasty white. Confident that he has gotten his message across, Lyon released the man. His fury was starting to simmer down, the rage leaving his system. Ren backed away instantly, still shaking in fright and pain. It’s only then that Lyon realized that it was really quiet around him.

The rest of the hosts have scattered, leaving only the remaining Trimens to stare at him fearfully in a corner. Bob was watching the spectacle in his seat, looking far too amused even after witnessing one of his guild members being assaulted in front of him.

“I apologize for the disturbance, Master Bob.” He bowed contritely. “That was incredibly unprofessional and presumptuous behavior.” His eyes flickered towards Ren, and he felt his scowl briefly returned. “However, I do not regret punching one of your guild members, although I shouldn’t have acted this way in public and disturbed the peace.”

Bob tittered, holding up a hand to cover his mouth. His cheeks were rosy with mirth and wicked glee.

“No, no, Ren-chan should have known better than to play with a lady’s feelings.” He smiled, shaking his head. “I suppose this is a lesson learned. I have taught you better than this, haven’t I?” His eyes peered open for a faction as he glanced towards Ren, and Lyon felt a momentary chill completely unrelated to his magic.

“Well, why are you still standing here for?” Bob asked impatiently. “Are you not going to woo back your lady?”

Ren’s back straightened, and despite the rapidly forming bump on his face, his visage was filled with determination.

“Yes, Master Bob!” He inclined his head, although he regretted the movement immediately. He hurried off, stopping only to tentatively bowed to Lyon. “...Thank you, Lyon-san.”

Before Lyon could reply, he was out of the guild doors.

“You’re forgiven for punching my guild member, but you did destroy a few furniture during your rampage.” Bob observed.

Lyon grimaced when he noticed the broken coffee table and shattered glass.

“You’re a feisty thing, aren’t you?” Bob purred. “Now, how are you going to make up for the damage, Lyon-chan?”

He paled.


	13. worst enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We fear what we do not understand. There's nothing more frightening that being your own worst enemy.

They called it the Xibipiio Mirror because its real name was far too complicated and difficult for the human tongue to pronounce.

Experiential liminality – “to go in or out of the bounderies of experience”; the act of just entering or leaving perception, that was, a being on the bounderies of experience.

No one has ever encountered the same thing when they looked into the Xibipiio Mirror. Some saw their first loves, some saw their future, even their past, some found their greatest desires lying within reach in the smooth surface of the mirror.

The artifact was one of the world’s greatest mysteries.

Archaeologists had found the artifact decades ago, had studied and researched the effects of the mirror on humans. Now, it’s Team Lyon’s mission to transport the artifact to the National Museum of Magical Artifacts in Crocus. In the capital, the artifact would be lay to rest under a vault protected from thieves and the dust of time and sealed by layers of protection barriers.

For such an important mission, everyone was on edge the entire time.

The entire time, Lyon felt the Xibipiio Mirror called out to him like a siren’s song. Unnerved and shaken, he had opted to be placed at the rear guard instead. It doesn’t seem to be affecting his teammates like it does to him.

They were nervous for a whole other reason, constantly on guard from thieving dark mages wanting to get their hands on such a powerful magical artifact.

“It’s time for my watch.” Lyon murmured, coming up beside Yuka. The Anti-mage glanced over at his friend. Exhaustion was plain on his face, but his dark eyes remained ever alert. Nodding thankfully, Yuka disappeared into his tent.

In the silent night, the siren’s song was even more distracting as usual. Lyon felt unusually high-strung being this near to the Xibipiio Mirror. Without the chatters of his friends to serve as distraction, he could hear the voices whispering from the artifact.

He looked over at the dark tent behind him, where the Xibipiio Mirror was kept in. He felt his fingers twitched to reach out, to grasp the coiling tendrils of darkness he could imagine he was seeing. His feet moved to stand, and within seconds, he was standing in front of the tent.

 _Just a peek wouldn’t hurt..._ His hand paused at the flap. Through the slight gap, he stared unseeingly into the darkness.

His eyes narrowed when he spotted a flicker of brightness inside. Biting his lip and gaze darting around, he took a step and pushed the flap aside to enter.

There was no light inside the tent, and the Xibipiio Mirror stood in the center. As he approached, he realized that there was nothing reflected on the surface. Even as his hand reached out, his fingers skimming across the surface. The mirror was icy to the touch, unlike his magic, and he imagined he could see frost forming on his fingers. It was so cold it felt like the chill was reaching into his bones to hold him close.

 _“I see your heart, human.”_ A brittle-thin, whispery voice murmured in his ear. _“What do you see when you gaze into the mirror?”_

He glanced straight into the mirror, fear pounding in his veins. Yet the strange rush of power made him faint and heady. Darkness met his gaze, and a feeling of deep sadness touched upon his lips. It felt like the cold, still, dark heart of winter.

He blinked, and a reflection of himself was staring back at him. The reflection was a mirror image of him, although his irises and sclera were black as coal.

“I see the person I fear I’ll become.” He murmured.

With great reluctance, he wrenched himself from the Xibipiio Mirror and fled. He refused to look at the person on the other side of the mirror any longer, with his cold, dark gaze and empty smile and the red that stained his fingers.


	14. hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a battle between those of white hair and redheads! Who's going to win?

“Red hair is a passionate colour; intense, seductive, fiery and spirited! Unlike your pale, washed out hair colour.” Erza sneered at Mirajane’s long, sleek fair hair.

“And aggressive, hot-headed and opinionated as well!” The bar mistress growled back, fired up in her battle of insults with the other woman. “White hair is elegant, mature, full of grace and _pure_. You should be envious of _my_ hair, Erza.”

“Oh yeah? I’m perfectly happy with my red hair!” Erza retorted. “Redheads are so much better anyway. _Everyone_ loves redheads.”

“Ridiculous!” Mirajane scoffed in disbelief. She was the guild’s face for a reason after all. Like hell her rival was going to win her in this. “How about we settle this dispute through a battle?”

“A battle? Hmph,” Erza grinned, unable to ignore the thrill of challenge and the exhilaration in her blood. “Like you can ever win in a battle against me.”

“Then it’s a good thing I won all our battles, isn’t it?” She retorted, leaning over to bare her teeth in the redhead’s face. “Unfortunately, you barbarian, this won’t be a battle of combat.” She smirked, seeing the uneasiness on Erza’s face. “This will be a battle of redheads and white-haired, and we’ll get everyone to judge which group is better.”

Erza hesitated at the unexpected challenge. The only other redhead she knew was Natsu, but his hair was considered _pink_ and thus disqualified immediately.

“Are you scared, Erza?” Mirajane’s smirk grew sinister, like a hound sniffing out its prey’s weakness.

The swordswoman hissed and straightened up, refusing to back down. “I accept your challenge.”

“You have until sundown.” Mirajane’s smirk remained condescending, like she already knew she would win. She walked off, a sway in her hips as she headed straight towards her siblings. She was already one step ahead in this challenge.

Infuriated, Erza stomped off, and as another redhead came to mind, a wide, almost insane grin slid across her face. Unknowingly scaring off anyone who was in her path, Erza bolted straight towards her destination.

Crime Sorciere has set up camp outside of Magnolia, and from what she knew, they were going to be hanging around for the next few days. She burst into their camp, eyes already seeking out her target.

“Cobra,” She smiled at the man sitting beside Jellal.

Erik grimaced and stood up abruptly, poised to run. He has already seen the intentions in her mind, and he’s ** _not_** going to get involved in the spat between the two Fairy Tail women.

 _“No.”_ He snarled.

“What’s going on?” Sorano asked curiously, not even looking up as she filed her dainty nails. Even surrounded by the wild nature, she doesn’t look out of place, as ethereal and beautiful like a sprite. Erza’s not going to admit that maybe white hair _does_ looked lovely.

“She’s in some sort of ridiculous competition with that demon woman about their hair colours. I’m not getting involved.” Erik gritted out.

“Demon woman? You mean Mirajane Strauss?” Sorano hummed in interest. Meredy scooted away when she noticed the unholy glint in the woman’s eyes. “The one with such beautiful white hair?”

The rest of the group glanced at her own pale silvery hair and blanched.

“Fabulous.” She stood up and patted her skirt down. “I’m joining the other side then.” She shot Erik a contemptuous grin. “Erza, I’m going to give you a piece of advice. You’ll be better off searching for some other redhead than use this idiot here. He’s not going to win any competition with his ugly mug.”

She strutted off, leaving behind the hissing, red-faced Erik and a thoughtful Erza.

* * *

 

“Lyon-san, are you free at the moment?” He glanced up from his conversation with Gray, frowning at the sweet smile on Mirajane’s face. Elfman and Lisanna was tagging along behind her, both looking reluctant and resigned. That should have warned him that something was wrong already.

“I... suppose so?” He gave her an uncertain look when he noticed her demonic aura. She wasn’t going to take ‘no’ as an answer.

“Excellent! I need your help in defeating Erza!” Mirajane beamed, seizing his arm to pull him up from his seat. He stumbled, swaying in confusion at the sudden shift of position.

“And you need _his_ help for that?” Gray snorted. He let out a pained yelp when Lyon ‘accidentally’ stomped on his toe.

“Erza have insulted our hair!” Mirajane exclaimed. “I’m going to show her that white hair is the best!”

“But my hair is silver.” Lyon frowned, trying to shake off her hand. Instead of her grip loosening, it tightened even further.

“There’s no way we’re going to lose! I have contacted someone else to come and help!” She cried out zealously, not even acknowledging his protest.

“Give up, Mira-nee gets like this all the time whenever she’s challenging Erza.” Lisanna gave him a sympathetic smile. “The only way to get this over with is to go with the flow.”

“But—” Lyon was cut off with a pained squawk as he was dragged away. He shot a pleading look at Gray – _the useless bastard –_ who only shrugged helplessly and watched them leave in amusement.

* * *

Apparently, the person that Mirajane had contacted to come and help was Yukino from Sabertooth. She looked equally bewildered when Lisanna explained the reason for her presence, but she had accepted her fate fairly easily and joined in with a carefree grin. When an older pale-haired woman joined in, she had squealed in joy and hugged the stranger tightly.

Lyon only found out later that the other woman was Sorano, Yukino’s older sister.

Now, at sundown, Mirajane was smirking in victory. On her side, there were six of them, while Erza only managed to find two other redheads. The Raven Tail member that Lyon vaguely recognized as the woman that had fought against Lucy. Or perhaps, ex-Raven Tail member, judging from the delighted smile she gave to Lucy. The other one was the Poison Dragon Slayer from back then.

Where were all the fugitives popping up from?

“Admit it, Erza. You’ve lost.” Mirajane gloated. “Grovel at my feet and concede your loss. Maybe I’ll consider a lighter punishment.”

“A warrior will not admit her loss without a battle!” Erza snarled, whipping out her sword.

Lyon sighed and backed away, already knowing what’s going to happen next.

“Oh, so you want to settle this with a duel instead?” Mirajane laughed, magic gathering around her body. “Give up!”

Erza roared and charged at her, lashing out with a pair of short swords. She was countered by an armoured arm and a hand of wicked claws.

“I’m not a man if I do not fight for victory!” Elfman shouted, lunging at a startled Cobra. He was knocked aside by a whip of crimson hair from Flare.

“I’m out of here.” Lyon muttered, turning to leave... and was nearly hit in the face by an ice hammer. Gray was smirking in front of him, his hands already forming another seal.

“You shitty brat,” Eyes narrowing, and lips twisting into a grin, Lyon tossed off his jacket and met Gray’s blow.

The guild soon descended into chaos, as usual.


	15. eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Injured and temporarily blinded during a job, separated from his team and trapped after an avalanche caused a mountain to cave in on him and a strange woman who was acting way too overly familiar with him. This really wasn't his lucky day.

If he had to blame something on his current predicament, it would be that he actually made a _plan_. As the universe was prone to fucking up whenever a proper plan was actually made, he shouldn’t be terribly surprised that the plan literally blew up in his face.

After getting caught in an unexpected ambush where they were overwhelmed and outnumbered, their fighting had then apparently triggered an avalanche that swept everyone away.

When he woke up, everything was in darkness. He instantly knew something was wrong. It was too dark, too _unnatural_. There was barely any space around him for him to move, and he could feel the pace of his heart rate picking up.

“Calm down!” A voice shouted in his ear and wrenched him out of his panicking. A calloused hand, but undeniably feminine with their long, slender fingers, cupped his cheek to hold him down. _“Breathe.”_   

He released a panicked, shuddering exhale, forcing himself to relax in the other person’s grip. It wasn’t Sherry, or anyone he knew, and confined in such a tiny space and not being able to _see_ made for a horrible combination.

“We’re trapped under a cave in at the moment.” The unknown woman explained softly. “My team is working to get us out right now, so we’re going to have to be patient.”

“I can’t see anything.” He revealed suddenly.

There was a startled intake of breath, and the woman’s grip on his bicep loosened. He winced when he felt fingers skimmed across his forehead. A flare of pain caused him to jerk away from her gentle touch.

“Your head is bleeding.” She murmured. “Hopefully, the blindness is temporary. You have a healer on your team, don’t you?”

He felt his heart skipped a beat. The chilly air became even colder as he flinched away from her. _How does she know about Chelia?_

Does she belong to the group he was fighting just now? Was he trapped with an enemy, vulnerable and with nowhere to run?

“Look, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not your enemy.” She said patiently. “My friends and I were just passing by when we noticed the fighting.”

He glared at the direction he believed she was in, trying to viciously project his distrust as hard as he could.

“Don’t,” He bit out. “Touch me.”

There was a beat of silence, where all he could hear was his desperate breathing and his heartbeats pounding rapidly in his ears.

“Okay, fine.” She finally exhaled, a tinge of annoyance coloring her tone. “But I’m not the one hyperventilating and threatening to bring the rest of the mountain down on us just now.”

He flushed angrily, folding his arms protectively around his midsection and scooted as far as he could get from her. Just his luck to be trapped with such a bothersome woman.

They spent the next few minutes in silence. He could hear clothes rustling as she fidgeted in impatience. He forced himself to stay still, limbs trembling not from the cold but from the fear of unknown. He felt the acute vulnerability in his lack of sight, not being able to see the danger around him. He was like a newborn baby, helpless and prone to just lash out badly if triggered.

“Lyon Vastia, right?” The woman abruptly spoke.

With his nerves fraying from his blindness, he was surprised by the sudden noise. He could feel her pause, the awkwardness emanating from her. His lips pursed in response and he ducked his head, hoping that she’ll get the hint that he’s ignoring her.

“Look, I already know who you are.” She sighed. “You’re really recognizable, with that hair of yours.” No reply from him. “If we’re going to be trapped down here for god knows how long, you can at least _talk_ to me.”

 _“Shut up.”_ He hissed.

Her giggles filled the small space. “You’re just like an angry cat, aren’t you?”

His fingers dug deep into the ground and snow beneath him, and he gathered them in his hand. With a scowl, he hurled the clump of dirt and snow at the direction the annoying woman was. The anxiety and fear in his chest managed to ease, just a little, at the shriek of indignation.

* * *

 

By the time they were rescued, his eyesight had not returned, the various cuts on his body were starting to sting and itch, and his muscles felt stiff from sitting too long.

“Okay, kitty, let’s go.” The woman seized his arm to pull him up. He snarled at the idiotic nickname she has given him.

“Let go.” He protested, trying to shake her grip free. But he was weak from blood loss, and his attempt did not accomplish anything except to make her laugh in amusement.

“Please don’t resist, Lyon-san.” Another feminine voice piped up, a sweeter, girlish voice that sounded far too gleeful at his plight. Great, another stranger who knew his name. “Jel— My comrade and I have already sent a message to your teammates that we’ll be delivering you to the nearest town. So they’re going to meet up with us at Brentwood.”

“Who are you guys anyway?” He frowned, finally yielding when the annoying woman refused to let go.

“We’re a group of independent mages.” A male voice coughed and explained delicately. There was something suspicious about the way he spoke, as if he’s picking his words carefully.

Lyon was far too tired to pry into their business, and the mention of his friends had calmed him down. It looked like they had gotten away from the avalanche safely.

He would trust this group of strangers for the time being.

“Alright, let’s get going before the storm comes back.” The woman ordered. Even after being trapped underground for hours didn’t seemed to have diminish her spirit. She sounded as irritatingly energetic as ever.

With a heave, Lyon was manhandled onto the back of their male comrade. He made a noise of protest that was quickly smothered by a gasp of pain. Sighing in defeat, he hid his face into the man’s shoulder. Nothing had gone well for him since he woke up this morning. He might as well just go with the flow.

He thought he felt the man’s shoulders shook with laughter, but it must have been his imagination and found himself succumbing to his exhaustion.

* * *

 

He was really tired of waking up to darkness. He knew he should be panicking more, but he trusted in Chelia’s ability to bring his sight back.

Groping around uncertainly with his hands, he managed to maneuver himself off the bed he was in. He took a minute to regain back his breath as he sat on the edge of the bed, arms trembling from exhaustion. He could feel bandages around his body, bounded a little too tight around his limbs. Someone had tried to patch him up the best they could. 

“Why are you up?!” A familiar voice cried out as the door burst open, the scrape of the edge of the door dragging across the flooring.

“Why are _you_ still here?” He scowled in response.  

Footsteps padded softly towards him. He stiffened up when he felt the slight breeze of her movement, the sharp dip of her body crouching down in front of him.

“You know, I was wondering why you’ve never once asked for my name.” She mused.

“I’m not interested to know.” He said quietly. “If you had wanted to tell, you’d have told me already.”

She chuckled, deep and amused. He estimated her to be in her early twenties from her voice, but she might be older or younger. 

He took a deep breath, hands quivering slightly in his lap as he deliberated on whether to take the chance to confirm his theory. “I’m not your responsibility.” Not waiting for her to answer, he continued, “You didn’t have to save me.”

“You remember.” She murmured, her tone going impassive and flat. It was hard to tell what she’s really feeling when he couldn’t see her expression. For the hundredth time that day, he felt frustrated at his blindness.

“I’m blind, not concussed.” He frowned. Still, it had taken a while for him to remember the earlier events, but he was pretty sure he had heard an unfamiliar scream of his name as the mountain collapsed over them. Someone had grabbed onto his waist and threw him off the course of the avalanche.

“You know who I am.” She spoke again, and this time there was a hint of danger in her voice now, the sharp scent of winter and perfume pervading the air as her magic rippled. She sounded tensed and anxious, wary of his reaction.

He kept silent, his breath hitching in surprise when he felt her grabbed his face. Her breath was almond and coffee as she leaned over him. It hurts when her thumb pressed deep into his flesh and against his cheekbone, but Lyon did not detect any intention to harm, so he kept as still as possible.

Instead, he raised his chin, unseeing eyes staring directly at her. There was a long moment where he sat rigid, waiting for her decision, then her grip gentled.

“Your friend gave you away when he said that you’re a group of independent mages.” He informed wryly.

She chuckled, releasing her grip on his face to run her fingers through his hair. “And I thought Gray was the troublesome one.”

He froze when he felt the whisper of her lips against his forehead, and warmth bloomed in his chest at the sign of affection.

“Stay out of trouble, you hear me?” She whispered. “You’re a handful to take care of, kitty.”

“Don’t call me that.” He frowned, but she was already gone. Only the echo of her laughter and the caress of her lips against his forehead lingered behind as evidence of her presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this happens sometime before Fairy Sphere releases the Tenroujima team?


	16. hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Lyon thinks he'll be able to save more people if he's stronger. But in the face of an overwhelming disaster, if strength is not enough, can faith save even a single person?

Team Lyon does not specialize in disaster relief missions. None of their magic type was suitable for such missions in the first place. In fact, if one was to put a category to his team’s specialization, it would be search-and-capture. The go-to guy was usually Jura, but ever since his appointment to the Magic Council, it fell onto their shoulders to take on any significant S-Class missions. So when an earthquake struck the city of Bristol just one station away, Team Lyon had been sent out immediately.

The only one whose magic was remotely useful was Sherry, who was able to spell inanimate objects into golems to help lift the collapsed debris up. The men had to resort to rolling up their sleeves and started digging the hard way. Chelia had long been chased off by Lyon to help out the medical team. Her expertise would be better off served helping the injured.

“When’s the reinforcement coming?” Toby panted, reaching up to wipe at the sweat on his forehead. His long hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail, dirt and soot smeared over his body and face.

“The earthquake has blocked off all entry into the station.” Yuka explained. “I think it’ll take some time before the other guild mages are able to join us. The only reason we got into the city was because Lyon was able to fly us in.”

“We won’t be able to save everyone with just the four of us here.” Toby muttered under his breath. The three of them exchanged disquieted looks over his head. They knew it was impossible to save everyone in this city, but none of them dared to contradict his statement. Sometimes, false hope was better than no hope at all.

Sherry looked away first, her expression grim and concentrated as she moved a pile of debris away from the entrance of a building. Before the earthquake, it probably used to be a school.

“Lyon-san! We need your help!” One of the city’s survivors dashed over with a small group behind him. “We have a child trapped under a building! We need your help to get her out!”

Lyon immediately dropped whatever he was doing and followed them. The street that he was led towards was even worse than the one before. The roads were split with small, spider web cracks. Two buildings seemed to have collapse against each other, and Lyon had to watch his feet to avoid stepping onto the shattered glass from the windows.

“We heard a noise when we’re clearing up this street.” One of the survivors explained. “We followed the noise, and it appears to be coming from inside this building.”

“Move.” He barked, stepping over the broken wreckage to crouch down in front of a small hole. He peeked into the darkness, feeling with his hands to judge the amount of room inside. There was barely any space for him to squeeze inside. He could hear whimpering gradually becoming louder, and then a soft cry for help. With a shaky inhale, he shrugged off his jacket.

“Lyon!” Yuka cried out in shock. “Don’t—”

He shot his friend a confident smirk, patted him on the shoulder and squeezed into the hole. It was a tight fit, but luckily he was slender enough. It was hot and dusty and he felt something snagged against his shirt as he crawled on his elbows. There was a tearing sound as whatever caught onto his shirt pulled and ripped a hole at his side. He held his breath, forcing himself to lean on his side.

“Hey, princess, you alright there?” He called out, squinting into the darkness.

The child was curled on her side, blond hair sticking wetly against her dirty face, which was bright red with tears and fright. She started to fidget anxiously when she spotted him, but instantly froze when the building groaned above them.  

“Hey, hey, calm down.” He said soothingly, trying to keep himself relaxed despite the sudden spike of fear. “I’m going to get you out, okay? But you must remain calm. Are you able to come over?”

The girl started sniffling, fat tears dripping down her cheeks.

“My leg… My right leg is trapped.” She sobbed. He felt his heart sank.

“Okay, this is what I’m going to do right now. I’m going to get help from my friends waiting outside.” He said steadily, hoping that the panic he’s feeling does not show on his face. “I know you’re a brave girl, so continue being brave for me, okay? I’ll definitely save you.”

“Okay.” The girl muttered, but her blue eyes were huge with terror.

Without wasting any more valuable time, he squirmed out of the wreckage. He felt hands grabbed onto his legs and dragged him out.

“We have a problem.” He explained quickly, gasping in the fresh air outside. “The girl’s leg is trapped. I need to move the debris above her, but that’s going to bring the entire shit down immediately.”

“I might be able to stall the collapse for a couple of seconds.” Sherry interjected, gaze darting around to assess the situation. “If I take control of everything, we have about five seconds to pull you and the girl out.”

“There’s debris in the way and we don’t have time to move them away. The child’s hurt and if we waste any more time, her leg might not be able to handle the trauma.” Yuka remarked, eyeing the broken bricks and rubbles cluttered around the hole. “I’ll use my Wave magic to blast the debris away.”

“I’ll pull Lyon and the girl out.” Toby announced, raising his hand. “I’m the fastest.”

The four of them glanced at each other, uncertainty and resolve warring on their faces.

“I’m trusting all of you.” Lyon declared, nodding as he slipped back in. He could hear instructions being thrown around outside, but he soon tuned them out as he focused on the little girl trapped under the building.

“I’m back.” He whispered, stretching out his arm towards her. Her tiny fingers curled tightly around his hand. With some difficulty, he adjusted himself into an awkward position with his arm hooked around her waist and a hand pressed against the beam on top of her leg.

_Come on, Sherry._

Cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he realized this could be the last time he saw the light.

The girl buried her face into his chest, her tiny body stiff with tension and fear.

Everything suddenly shone a soft pink light, and Lyon sensed the shift in the building’s position. Tightening his grip on the girl, he released his own magic, forcing the beam above to _move_. Tugging the girl free of her prison, he dragged her backwards, just as he felt Yuka’s Wave magic blasted the debris around him. Some of the rocks was hurled away, but the space was still too small. Sherry’s control faltered momentarily and Lyon lunged to cover the child’s small body as the building moaned ominously and fell back down.

“Toby, hurry up!” He yelled. Clawed hands grabbed onto his legs and dragged him out into the open air. He felt arms seized onto his body as he and the girl was tossed a couple of feet away.

The ground shook as the building imploded, a cloud of dust forming in the air. Lyon’s body remained curled protectively around the girl. His throat itched and burned and he finally released her to cough desperately.

“Lyon!” Yuka cried and rushed over to pull him up, searching his body for injuries.

The little girl was crying and clinging onto his waist, refusing to let him go. Lyon patted her head, feeling blood dripped into his eye. He groaned and raised his hand, wincing as he felt the open cut along his temple.

“Alright, the both of you, to the medical camp.” Sherry commanded sternly, standing over them. “Can you still walk, Lyon-sama?”

“My legs are fine.” He growled, fed up with the crowding. He shoved Yuka aside and stood up, staggering slightly from the weight of the little girl. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up. “What did I tell you, princess? I promised I’ll save you, didn’t I?”

She sniffed loudly and finally smiled.

* * *

 

His hands hurt. It had been hurting for quite a while. The blood has dried and the cuts were blistering on his palms. After handing the girl over to a nurse, he limped away to search for Chelia. She must be around somewhere.

“Lyon!” Gray shouted, rushing over to him. Behind him, a group of Fairy Tail mages have finally arrived as backup.

The younger man’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he registered Lyon’s condition. He must have looked terrible, he thought morbidly. A little self-conscious with the staring, he cleared his throat in irritation.

“I’m getting you to Wendy.” Gray glared, grabbing his arm to drag him off. He was careful enough to avoid grabbing onto the blistered hands. _How long and how hard had he dug until his hands had bled while searching for survivors?_

Gray threw open the flap, bursting into the medical tent. Wendy looked up in surprise, her skinny hands full of boxes of clean linens.

“I’m leaving this idiot to you. Fix his hands.” He glowered at Lyon, shoving the latter towards Wendy.

“Lyon-san,” She greeted, her eyes filled with worry. “Please sit down on the table.”

Sighing, he pushed himself up onto the metal table and resigned to letting the girl fussed over him. She started tearing strips of clean linens, serenely directing Carla to fill the basin with clean water.

“Lyon-san has beautiful hands.” She murmured, picking up one damaged hand gently to lay on his lap. Dipping a cloth into the basin, she tenderly dabbed it against the cuts. “I’ve always admired these hardworking, strong hands. That’s why, I hope you can look after them better next time.”

His cheeks pinked in embarrassment as she slowly wrapped his hand up. He remembered lecturing the young girl to take it easy and take care of herself when she was still in Lamia Scale. How hypocritical of him now, to have that young girl reprimanded him for ruining his hands and pushing himself.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, watching silently as she bandaged his hands.

Wendy gave him a bright smile. “You’ve worked hard, Lyon-san. You’ve done your best, so let us share your burden now that we’re here.”

“...Okay.” He gave her a small, helpless smile. With that sweet smile and huge innocent eyes, he has never been able to deny her in anything.

“Now bend down and let me heal your head.” She gave him a small frown of disapproval.

Snorting, he lowered his head and closed his eyes, the soft glow of Wendy’s magic illuminating his face. Finally, he let himself relaxed.


	17. smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was not a good man. He has his own sins to bear. He had pushed his friends away from him, shut them out of his desperate heart. But even back then, he has always had someone watching out for him.

Lyon slipped out of his tent, too restless to sleep. He could hear the snores of his teammates as he ghosted across the clearing and left the campsite. The moon was uncommonly beautiful and bright tonight, and he climbed to a higher spot to catch a better glimpse of it.

Soon, the Moon Drip spell would be complete. Everything that they had fought so hard for would come to fruition. Deliora would finally be destroyed by his hands.

He _should_ be elated about the realization of his plans, but unease and restlessness plagued his mind, as if something was going to come along to ruin everything.

He had spent far too much time and resources on this. _He has to succeed_.

“Not able to sleep?” A figure dropped down beside him, leaping nimbly off the top of the tree. Lyon glanced over at the masked individual. In the middle of the night, the mask looked eerie with those bottomless eyeholes.

“Zalty,” He greeted, turning away from the other man.

The strange masked man has always given off dangerous vibes. In spite of their temporary alliance, Lyon knew that Zalty would stab him in the back if anything goes wrong.

“The moon is lovely tonight.” Zalty mused, the green fur of his mask rustling as he shifted his head. “Soon, we’ll commence with the Moon Drip spell and dispel the ice around Deliora.”

“I’ll kill Deliora.” Lyon said firmly. The demon was _his_. Ultimately, Deliora would die by his hands.

“Of course.” Zalty agreed amicably, but there was something about his tone that irked Lyon.

Lyon wished the man could go away already. He doesn’t trust Zalty, and he doesn’t like the man near him and his friends. His instincts told him that Zalty was not only dangerous, but untrustworthy. Certainly, the masked individual has some sort of motive when he reached out to Lyon and his team.

The advantages of Zalty’s knowledge had outweighed the cons, and that’s the only reason Lyon had allowed their alliance.

“What will you do after you accomplish your goal?” Zalty asked suddenly.

The question caught him off guard, and the bitterness felt heavy like lead in his belly. It was not something he _allowed_ himself to think about.  

After what he had done, would Ooba even accept him back to Lamia Scale?

He could always join another guild, but it wouldn’t feel the same. Lyon has grown attached to Lamia Scale, even if he had left the guild a long time ago. It was the only place left he could call _home_ , when the home he had back with Ur and Gray was destroyed, when he has nowhere else to go in this world.

In the end, he has never really thought about what would happen after killing Deliora. He has been planning this for the last ten years, and he had determined the various possibilities of what would happen. Not surviving was in his calculations as well. 

“I have never really thought about it.” He finally said.

He could feel the heavy gaze on him, and it felt like Zalty could dissect the truth in his eyes and unravel all the hidden thoughts he kept close to his heart.

That’s why he could never trust Zalty.

* * *

 

_Seven years later,_

 

It was midnight when they finally returned to their hotel. They had been forced to clean up the mess in Mercurius. Lyon have no idea what the royalty was thinking to invite _Fairy Tail_. Those guys caused trouble everywhere they go.  

He bade good night to his friends and entered his room, bending down to take off his boots. He divested his jacket, muffling a tired yawn behind a hand as he locked the door. Before he could switch on the lights, something glittered in the corner of his eyes.

He paused, hand hovering over the switch. He lowered his hand and walked over to his desk. Sitting on his desk was a beautifully carved sweet pea, its silvery ice petals gleaming gently under the moonlight. Blissful pleasure, departure, good bye and thank you for the lovely time. Useless facts flickered through his mind.

These flowers used to grow around Galuna Island.

He picked up the ice flower, his eyes drifting shut as he pressed the carving against his lips. The only other Ice-make mage he knew was Gray. Ur was dead, so it’s definitely not her, unless she had come back to life from the ocean by some miracle.

He ran his fingers over the flower sculpture, quietly admiring the detailed veins along the branch and the intricate folds of the petals. This was not the work of an amateur.

He glanced at his desk, blinking when he caught sight of an envelope. He placed the ice carving down and unsealed the envelope. The script was beautifully written, the ‘y’ of his name curving up towards his ‘L’ in a huge, dramatic loop. He could stare at the penmanship forever.

 

_Dear Lyon,_

_I am Ultear Milkovich. I believe you’ve heard of me from Gray._

_You may believe that we’ve never met, but that is not true. You once knew me as Zalty._

_I never got the opportunity to apologize for manipulating you. I was a different person back then, and had committed many sins._

_I have been trying to atone for my sins for the past seven years. I’m not sure if it’ll ever be enough, or if I’ll ever be forgiven by all those people I’ve hurt._

_This might be the last time I can speak to you, although I regret that I’ll never get to know you. I think, in a different world, if I had not run from my mother back then, I could have a family and a life far beyond what the current me deserves._

_You hold no obligation to me. As far as you’re concerned, I’m nothing more than a stranger to you. But I would like to be selfish and reach out to you just this once, as someone who could have been family to me, and as someone who I’ve once hurt terribly._

_I’m glad you’re happy in Lamia Scale, and I hope you’ve found the place you belong._

_Love,_

_Ultear Milkovich_

A drop of tear fell onto the edge of her name, smudging the ink. He placed the letter down, gazing out of the window and the brilliant full moon hanging in the sky.

It was not sadness he felt when he picked up the crisp paper and gently folded it, careful not to damage the letter. It was not grief when he hunted for a vase to deposit the ice flower into. He sat down in front of the desk, staring wistfully at the glittering ice carving.

Maybe he had never gotten the opportunity to know this woman. Maybe he had lost something vital, like a sister he could have. It was something like yearning, like finally realizing what the missing piece in his heart meant.

There was no sorrow or despair, despite what the letter implied, just a small, peaceful smile on his lips as he pulled the curtain close.


	18. scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyon has more scars than Gray had expected under those clothes. He has never once thought that Lyon was invulnerable, but he had thought that Lyon was _safe_ in Lamia Scale.

“That was reckless!” Gray complained, stooping down to rip at his pants. He held Lyon down, his hands frantically covering the wound on the older man’s shoulder. Blood continued to sprout from between his fingers. He bit down onto the torn fabric, slippery fingers gripping onto the edge of the cloth. With a jerk of his head, he tore a long strip from the fabric. _“Stay still!”_

Gray’s shaking fingers managed to tie a knot around his shoulder. He froze the rest of the wound close.

“Pot, kettle.” Lyon sneered, cutting off with a short gasp. Once his wound was sealed shut, his struggles ceased and he fell limp.

“The one time I decided to go on a job _alone_.” Gray grumbled, falling back with a relieved groan. He tried to wipe the sweat off his forehead, but smeared blood over his face instead.

“You shouldn't even be allowed to take solo missions.” Lyon murmured, fighting to keep his eyes open. The pain had sapped his energy and tired him out. “What with all the danger you get yourself into.”

“I didn’t ask you to protect me, damn it!” Gray glowered.

Lyon’s face was pale and bloodless, his dark eyes glazed over with pain. Drops of blood dotted up his throat and over his cheek.  And it was all Gray’s fault. He hadn’t notice the dark mage sneaking up behind him, but Lyon had. The latter had pushed him out of the way, and the attack had grazed his shoulder, almost blowing off a good part of his flesh. Gray swore he could see bone peeking out from underneath all the blood.

“If I didn’t, you’ll be dead right now…” Lyon snorted, head lolling to the side. When Gray looked over, his eyes were closed and he had gone still.

Panic kicked him into action, and he lunged over to check Lyon’s pulse. He felt it, faint and slow at the crook of his neck. Immediately, relief overwhelmed him and his shoulders sagged.

“Idiot, don’t scare me.” He snapped half-heartedly. He pushed his damp hair out of his eyes, and with an aggravated groan, scooped Lyon over his shoulders.

It would soon be night, and while they were not bothered by the cold, it’s best to get out of the elements before Lyon’s injuries developed an infection.

Shouldering Lyon’s weight, he made his way back towards town.

* * *

 

Once he had a doctor looked at Lyon, and his own wounds cleaned and bandaged up, Gray collapsed onto the chair next to the bed.

Lyon remained unconscious, his complexion still unhealthily pale. His shoulder was bounded, and his body was washed clean of the blood. His hair fell gracefully around his face, like silver petals kissing his cheeks. It had gotten long enough to shade his eyes when they were down from their usual spikes.

Gray let his eyes wandered downwards as he waited for Lyon to wake up. Small, faint scars littered Lyon’s upper body. There’s even a burn on the side of his ribs, the skin puckered and pink after it had long healed. There’s far more scars than he had ever expected to see on the older man’s body.

Their life as a mage was dangerous. In addition, Lyon was an S-Class mage of Lamia Scale who had a tendency to take on solo jobs. Lyon has always been _human_ to him, unlike the rest of his monstrous team. Destructive Natsu, lethal Erza, and even Lucy, who has the power to wield the stars. Lyon was the snow and ice; serene, beautiful, unshakable poise and a spine of steel. He was human; not vulnerable _(definitely not)_ , but destructible. He had thought Lyon _safe_ in Lamia Scale.

Of course, not that he was saying that Lamia Scale does not have its fair share of danger, but compared to most guilds, Fairy Tail was like a magnet for trouble. They faced dangerous opponents far more than any other guild at every other day and have experienced near death enough times to laugh at it brazenly.

It had just registered to him that Lyon had lived seven years longer. While he was under Fairy Sphere, life had gone on for the rest of the world. There was no time to stop while the whole world continued spinning. In those seven years, Lyon had continued taking jobs, meeting new friends, growing stronger and advancing through the ranks to become S-Class.

He had, if Gray was to believe, experience life much more and had probably fought more enemies than him.

All these scars marring Lyon’s body probably had a story of its own; each healed battle wound a sign of what he had gone through, and proof that he had _survived_ each fight.

“Mmf?”

He was shaken out of his thoughts as Lyon stirred. He leaned forward eagerly, watching as the smooth flatness of Lyon’s visage shifted and became more animated. At least he didn't look as dead as before, with his too pale complexion.

“Good morning, Snow White.” He mocked, lips twisting into a sharp smirk.

Lyon blinked drowsily at him, his unfocused gaze wandering around the room before it landed back on him.

“Not what I wanted to see the first thing I wake up.” He sighed. “And it’s evening, dumbass.”

He didn't try to sit up, to Gray’s relief. He’s not in the mood to argue and forced the idiot to lay down and stay _down_.

“Whatever.” He mumbled, scrutinizing Lyon’s face. He nodded grimly in approval as he observed colour returning slowly to the older man’s cheeks.

Lyon’s eyes drifted shut, and for a second, Gray thought that he had gone back to sleep. But his breathing didn't change, eyeballs shifting minutely beneath the lavender lids.

“Thanks, by the way,” He said reluctantly. “Even though I don’t need saving in the first place. And you even gotten yourself hurt unnecessarily.”

“Have you ever hear someone talk and just want to break their face because of the bullshit coming out of their mouth?” Lyon asked abruptly, sounding genuinely curious.

“I was being serious, you shithead!” Gray yelled. “Why the hell do you have to insult me?”

Lyon’s eyes remained shut, although his lips twitched into a little smirk of amusement, which made Gray want to break _his_ face.

“I was being serious too, you dumbass.” He exhaled tiredly, wrinkles appearing between his eyes as he scrunched his nose in irritation. His eyes fluttered open and he glanced at Gray, the smirk fading away. “You _needed_ to be saved. You had your hands full with dealing with the other mages. It wasn’t your fault that you didn't notice the other guy too. Stop trying to act tough and accept that I protected you. If anyone’s to blame, it’s myself for being careless enough to underestimate the guy.”

Gray opened his mouth to object, riled up with indignation, only to be cut off as Lyon hoisted himself up.

“Goddamnit, stay down!” He shouted in exasperation, lunging forward to help. Lyon swatted his hands away, the ungrateful bastard.

“You’re safe, I’m alive, so why are you still complaining?” He asked.

Gray wanted to throttle him on the spot, baffled by the nonchalance.

“That’s because you got _hurt_!” He growled, the urge to scream strangled in his throat.

Lyon’s gaze was clear and sharp on him, and he felt himself faltered at the look being levelled on him. He felt like an insect being examined under a microscope.

“And it’s better if _you_ got hurt instead?” Lyon said calmly.

Gray’s anger sizzled away instantly. Whatever he was planning to say seemed to evaporate at the almost accusing stare. He hadn't been expecting Lyon to turn the tables on him.

“No, yes, I mean…” Gray paused, letting out a frustrated sigh. “That’s not what I meant…”

“That’s exactly what you meant, you fool.” Lyon bit out, rolling his eyes. He was possibly the only person in this world that was capable of projecting both satisfaction and annoyance at the same time.

He rubbed his face tiredly, shoving Gray from the bed as he lay back down.

“I’m too tired to argue with you about your stupidity.” He muttered. “If you want to die that badly, then find some other way to die next time. But in a battle, I’m going to watch your back. If I get hurt, it’s my problem.” When he noticed Gray’s expression, he hurled the pillow at his face. “Get lost. I want to sleep.”

He dragged the blanket over his body and turned his back on Gray. Even if Gray had wanted to retaliate, he has a feeling that Lyon was just going to ignore him.

“That’s not how it works…” Gray sighed, wondering how the conversation had gone completely Lyon’s way.

He glanced at Lyon’s back once more, felt his lips tilted into a small, infuriated smile before he left the room, switching the lights off behind him.


	19. winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In his heart, there's a violence and a darkness that hates, hates, _hates_. There's a monster lurking in his head, that wants to spit poison and bend the entire world to his will. He's a nuclear warhead, he's the calm before the storm, he's the winter that claims all.

Ever since he was a child, his temper has always been volatile. He’s easily provoked, emotional and prideful. It was like God had taken all the worst sorts of attributes, mixed them into a beaker and slapped the end results on Lyon Vastia.

He had mellowed out a lot over the years, especially after getting his ass kicked by Gray. He gotten over his need for revenge and experienced loss and grief and had everything he had worked so hard for fell apart around his ears.

He learned to control his temper, learned to stop letting anger clouded his head over every little thing. It was pointless wasting energy getting angry all the time anyway.

It worked, of course, a little too well. His self-discipline was infamous around the guilds. He was well-known for being able to keep his cool even during the direst situation. Well, except when he’s dealing with Gray, but Gray has always been able to tick him off even without saying a word. Just the idiotic look on his face was able to piss Lyon off.

What everyone does not know that even the most coolheaded person has their trigger points, and this _fool_ had stomped on all of them in less than ten minutes.

Lyon _hated_ politics. He hated sycophants, and he hated the slimy games they played and the way they treated everyone else like they were pawns on the chessboard. The worst thing was that he was _good_ at politics.

He’s eloquent, and he’s sharp enough to catch the double meanings in their words. He’s also far too stubborn and wilful to be intimidated and _not_ fight back. He could stand on their stage with the worst of their lot and played on their level. He doesn’t fear the consequences of his words and actions, _and_ he’s devious enough to protect his guild from any sabotage. It helped that he’s willing to dirty his own hands to do what’s necessary to protect his people.

And Ooba was also willing to do anything to protect the guild and its reputation to set him on these politicians.

They were, to be frank, useless in his opinion. But legal guilds do not only depend on the money from jobs to stay afloat. Guilds get support from politicians and nobles, whether for money or for publicity. A guild wouldn’t be able to survive without an influential person as sponsor.

Of course, usually the Guild Masters themselves were influential enough to support their own respective guilds.

War with the Alvarez Empire had just ended, but peace had not returned. The stories lied when they said everything would be fine and dandy once the hero won the war.

The war had destroyed the guild hall and wiped out several cities. Many of their guild members were left homeless in the aftermath.

Instead of helping out back at the guild, Ooba had sent him out here to Crocus to deal with the nobles and politicians. The fact that he had to dress up for an evening dinner entertaining idiots the whole night had him hanging onto the last thread of his patience.

Then, one of the noblewomen – a distant cousin of the princess, from what he had gathered from her ramblings – had clung to him like a leech. Her father came to make small talk as the evening goes on. Lyon had mastered the art of looking as if he’s listening when he’s not, until the fool started talking about his guild members.

That’s when he _snapped_.

“You _bastard_ ,” He snarled, his vision blurring red as he grabbed the man’s lapels and lifted him. “You cowards hide away in your mansions during the war, and the only reason you’re alive right now is because of the mages that went out there and _died_ for you. How dare you stand there and insult the Master of my guild? Ooba raised me up to become the man I am today and I’ll not permit anyone to speak ill of her.” Frost was forming on his own hands and up the man’s neck. He could distantly hear screaming, but all he could hear was the roaring in his own ears. _“Including trash like you.”_

Violence crackled across his skin, ice sparking every time someone tried to touch him. He was breathless from the anger and loathing, and in that moment, he felt like he could tear the whole world apart. His blood burned too hot and too fast in his veins, even though he was made of ice. For a second, he felt like he could move even winter to his whims.

Jura was the one who finally broke him out of his rage, forcing him to let go of the snivelling nobleman.

“He insulted Master and Sherry!” He spat, his anger like knives and broken glass, twirling around to glare at Jura. “He undermined Sherry’s abilities as a mage, as if being a woman made her any lesser!”

They could insult his friends, but he would never allow anyone – even the damn king himself – to undercut their abilities. They had all worked hard to reach the top, bled from knuckles and cried tears of pain as they fought to become stronger to protect anything.

“Enough, Lyon!” Jura roared, his own magic rising to meet the icy cold. “You nearly killed him!”

Lyon would kill anyone a thousand times to protect his friends, not only from death, but from anyone who would upset them.

“Let go!” He demanded, fighting out of Jura’s grip. When he finally slipped out of the Wizard Saint’s grasp, he shot one last freezing look at the nobleman before he stomped out of the dining hall.

He has enough of keeping his cool and playing games with these nobles. If Ooba’s going to continue making him guild representative, he’s going to do things **_his_** way.

Jura sighed as he looked around at the damage of Lyon’s rage. Half of the hall was frozen solid, tables were blown away, the glass windows were shattered and some unfortunate guests had fainted from the killer intent, including the poor bastard’s daughter.

He has always known that Lyon was strong, but he has never feared Lyon before. When Lyon gave him that look though... It was like looking into the heart of winter; brutal, cold and mercurial. Like winter at first glance, Lyon was cold and beautiful. But even the beauty of snow hid the danger of coming too close, for winter was death and if one’s not careful enough, winter could lay waste to kingdoms.   

He sighed and started barking out orders, directing the guests out of the hall. He’s left to clean up the mess and he’s sure that there would be consequences later. He’s only lucky that the King hasn’t made his entrance yet.

He could feel a headache coming as he stared at the wreckage again.

He hoped that Ooba knew what she’s doing with Lyon.


	20. summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the hottest period of the year, where the sun was hot enough to melt the asphalt off the roads. And it's the most dreaded time of the year for Lyon as everyone started to treat him as a human air-conditioner. His only option: stay the hell away from his guild.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course Natsu has to be in the story when he's basically named after summer.

It was the time of the year where everyone just wanted to stay shut up in their homes, switched on the air-conditioner and let the cool air blasted in their faces. However, reality was unfair, and life does not stop for anyone just because the weather was too hot.

As an Ice-make mage, Lyon’s ability allowed him to maintain a cooler body temperature than his friends -- something that they unashamedly took advantage of.

They took every opportunity to stick close to him, or pressed their sticky hands against his cooler skin. Which was _gross_ , and annoying.

Just because he could lower his own body temperature does _not_ mean that he could not feel the heat either. It’s more like his own magic was having a constant battle against the suffocating, sticky heat and the glare of the sun shining brightly down on his head and making his hair fizzed and fell limp against his forehead.

It was bad enough to feel the warmth on his skin, much less feel his guild mates and friends trying to grope him every second in an attempt to keep cool too.

That’s why he’s out of town at the moment, _away_ from the guild.

He had just finished a job, and had opted to spend his time alone, indulging in a bowl of shaved ice to cool his parched throat. It wasn’t often he gets the chance to have some alone time to himself.

If it wasn’t for the heat, his team might have possibly chased him all the way down and interrupted his peace by now.

He closed his eyes in bliss as he felt the gentle slide of shaved ice down his throat and the sweet tang of its mango flavour on his tongue.

“Ah, is that Lyon?” Approaching footsteps announced the arrival of a certain pair.

An eye peeked open to see a bob of pink hair floating in front of him. It was so hot he swore he could see the heat wave rippling his vision.

“Natsu,” He greeted, forcing himself to sit up on the bench. _Great_ , the last person he wanted to encounter on such a sweltering and humid day was the one guy that continuously emitted heat from his body. “You’re too close.”

He grumbled as he glanced down at his finished shaved ice. He tossed the plastic bowl into the bin, blinking as a flying cat fluttered over his head and rested itself on Natsu’s shoulder. Hmm, what was the flying cat’s name again? Merry? Happy? He was too tired to remember.

“Good afternoon, Lyon!” Lucy came up beside him, smiling. Her blond hair was similarly frizzled, pulled into a messy ponytail. Her attire was borderline scandalous, as she was clad only in a bikini top and denim shorts. Her skin was glistening with sweat, her cheeks flushed with red. Lyon understood a little of the stress on her face. It was too hot to be walking about in public.

“Are you on a job?” She asked.

“I just completed my job. I’m just hanging around instead of heading back to the guild where everyone’s going to use me as a human air-conditioner.” He muttered with a tetchy scowl.

“Lucky for you. Gray hadn't been able to escape.” Lucy giggled.

“You want to join us for ice cream?” Natsu offered. It was almost unfair how completely unaffected he was by the heat.

He thought of the shaved ice he just ate, and how it wasn’t enough anyway and nodded, getting up to follow the duo and their flying cat.

* * *

 

“An ice cream on a hot day is the best treat!” Lucy moaned, savouring the strawberry ice cream melting on her tongue. She sighed, rosy cheeks puffed up to enjoy the chilliness spreading around her mouth.

“Aye!” Happy agreed, trying to shield his ice cream from a pouting Natsu, who had gulped down his own ice cream in a single bite.

Lyon mumbled something incoherent in response, choosing to occupy his attention on the treat in his hand instead. Natsu had called him boring, for choosing a vanilla-flavoured ice cream, and had gotten a punch in the arm for it.

So what if Lyon was boring?  Vanilla was a timeless classic that could never go wrong.

“Ugh!” Lucy cried out, shoving the rest of her ice cream cone into her mouth. She threw herself back onto the grass. “It’s still so hot!” She glanced at Lyon hopefully. “Can you like, freeze this place?”

“No,” He denied immediately. “I’m not going to waste my magic.” He rubbed a thumb over the edge of his lips, realizing that the ice cream had smeared over his cheek. “And it’s far too hot to do anything.”

Lucy sighed and flopped back onto her back restlessly.

“Heh, I know how you guys can keep cool.” Natsu piped up, a devious glint in his eyes. His lips stretched into a terrifying grin. Any other day, Lyon would have gotten up and fled instantly at the wicked look on his face, but he’s too tired to move at the moment.

“How?” Lucy asked. Perhaps she was as equally worn-out as Lyon was, as she didn’t realize her mistake until Natsu stood up and stalked towards them.

He let out a war cry and rushed forward. Lucy scrambled back in panic, attempting to get up and run, but tripped on her slipper. She shrieked as Natsu leaned down and scooped them into his arms, yanking them both off the ground. Lyon was too surprised -- by Natsu’s sudden movement and the fact that he hadn't expected Natsu to actually grab _him_ as well -- to react in time.

“Don't you _dare_ \--” Lucy threatened.

Natsu let out a high-pitched cackle and tossed them into the lake. Lucy screamed, and screamed even louder as Happy crowed with delight and dive bombed her. Lyon came up to the surface, spluttering with indignation and shock.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” He growled up at the guffawing Dragon Slayer.

He exchanged conspiring looks with Lucy, and then they both lunged up, each grabbing onto Natsu’s ankles. The Dragon Slayer yelped as he was forcefully jerked forward into the water. Lucy broke out into laughter as he flailed helplessly.

Lyon tried to maintain his dignity, sopping wet and silver hair plastered against his skull, but even he could not resist laughing. And immediately stopped and tried to backpedal when he noticed the gleam in Natsu’s eyes zeroing on him. He tried to escape back to dry land, but couldn’t get away in time as all three jumped forward and pulled him back into the water.

As he struggled in their grip, their laughter ringing in his ears, he felt his lips twitched into a grin. He supposed summer was not so bad after all…

But he’s still going to beat the shit out of Natsu when he gets out of the lake.


	21. spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyon has spring allergy, but he has always been able to keep it under control when the season rolls by. But this time, he forgot to take his medicine and his allergy triggered a severe allergic reaction that sent him into an anaphylactic shock. Good thing the bunch of fugitives he ran into was competent... 
> 
> Well, he amended, at least competent enough not to send him to an early grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, I'm not medically trained. Whatever you read here, do not do it at home, kiddies.

It’s getting more difficult to breathe the longer he forced himself to ignore the pain. He abandoned all pretence and slowed to a stop, clutching his chest in one hand and the other reaching out shakily to grab onto a tree trunk for support. He always knew that his stubbornness would bite him in the ass one day. He could have chosen to walk the longer route instead of the shortcut through the forest. It was a less than an hour’s walk, and he’d thought he could get through this without getting affected by all the pollen floating around.

Alas.

As it was a particularly breezy day as well, it was barely ten minutes before Lyon found himself coughing and sneezing nonstop.

He should have known better, especially as he had forgotten to bring along his medicine too.

With a particularly hard cough, his knees went weak and he crashed to the ground. His limbs were twitching, and he could feel his throat swelling up. The more he tried to calm himself down, the more he panicked. He fought desperately for air, trying to breathe through his nose.

A sharp pain stabbed into his abdomen and he gave up struggling. The pain washed over him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to ride out the agony.

He vaguely heard footsteps and shouting around him, and there was a skip in his heartbeat at the thought of enemies finding him. Even standing up was a problem, as mobility seemed to have flee from him. All mobile function of his limbs was far too busy shaking uncontrollably to listen to him.

_God, he hated spring._

* * *

 

Meredy had been scouting nearby as the rest of Crime Sorciere set up camp. She had heard the noises and quickly went to check it out. Jellal had warned her many, many times to call for backup, but she had always ‘conveniently’ forgot. This time, she might be a little out of her depth here when she found a familiar silver-haired man trembling on the ground.

She dashed forward, throwing leaves up into the air from her hurry. His face had gone stark white, lips turning blue from the lack of air. Meredy gripped his face, forcing his mouth open and immediately saw that his throat had swelled up badly, blocking his airway. He continued to seize in her arms, eyes reddening and damp with tears.

She had completely no idea on what to do.

Her instinctive reaction was to run back to the campsite and get Jellal, but she didn’t want to leave Lyon alone either. So she threw out her arm, and focused on her magic and her bond to Jellal. A bright pink band formed around her wrist, linking her emotions to Jellal.

She hoped the panic she’s feeling would sent Jellal and the others running to her side. She felt Jellal’s own surge of panic, but couldn't help but feel calmed by his constant coolheadedness. Even frightened and alarmed, Jellal has always possessed the ability to remain unflustered. 

True to her prediction, there was the customary flash of white light that indicated Jellal’s Meteor being used as he landed beside her. His gaze immediately scanned their surroundings for any danger, and when he finally decided the coast was clear, his gaze flickered over to them.

“Jellal!” She exclaimed in relief. “Help him!”

“What happened?” He asked, crouching down beside her. He examined Lyon’s condition, and his frown became deeper. “He’s having a seizure. Lay him down on the ground, Meredy.”

“He’s having an anaphylactic attack.” Erik said with surety, coming up behind them. The rest of the guild was following behind, out of breath from chasing after Jellal. The redhead cut his gaze across them. “I recognize this. Do we have adrenaline?”

“I might have them in my medical pack.” Sorano interjected, glancing at the man on the ground with barely concealed surprise and worry. “But it’s back at the campsite.”

“Well, we need it _now_.” Erik snapped.

Sorano’s face darkened in annoyance, and she looked as if she’s gearing up for a fight with the Dragon Slayer, until Sawyer hurriedly cut in.

“Alright, stop fighting.” He interrupted. “We need to get the medical pack first, or bring the guy back with us to the campsite.”

“He’s in no condition to be moved.” Jellal stood up gracefully. “I’ll go get it.”

Meredy let out a scared moan as Lyon started to gasp and wheeze, clawing at his throat and chest in desperation. Dots of blood leaked from the cuts around his throat from his frantic movement. She glanced up and exchanged wide eyes with her guild mates. Jellal immediately left to fetch the medical pack.

“What do we do? He’s going to hurt himself at this rate.” Richard asked. He faintly recognized the silver-haired man as one of Jura’s guild mates. He’s indebted to Jura Neekis, and the last thing he wanted was to see one of the people Jura cared for being hurt.

“Hold him down.” Macbeth drawled behind them, still looking as perpetually bored as ever.

That was the _worst_ idea Meredy has ever heard. She might not be medically trained, but Ultear has taught her _never_ to pin someone who’s having a seizure down.

“Damn it,” Erik let out an explosive breath and shoved her aside. He grabbed Lyon’s wrists and grappled with the Ice-make mage. Seeing his difficulty, Richard lunged forward to pin his legs down.

“Everyone, move.” Jellal was back, holding a white lace bag that clearly belonged to Sorano. She flushed and snatched back her bag, quickly pouring out the entire contents. With her deft fingers, she managed to pour the adrenaline into the syringe.

“I don’t have the necessary equipment. You have to make do with a syringe.” She said, handing the syringe to Jellal.

It’s not like they had a choice here.

Jellal took the syringe and stabbed it straight into Lyon’s thigh. Meredy anxiously watched the adrenaline drained into the bloodstream, holding her breath and praying that it’d work.

For the next five minutes, the whole group was silent. Then Lyon slowly relaxed, slumping to his side. He released a pained exhale, a smudge of blood against the side of his lips from where he had accidentally bitten down a moment ago.

“Did it worked?” Sawyer asked hesitantly.

Lyon’s cheeks were starting to regain colour, a little redder than normal, but at least he was breathing more easily now.

“It... looks like it worked.” Meredy exhaled, feeling the anxiety and fear slowly abated. “Let’s take him back to the camp.”

“We already saved him. Just leave him here.” Macbeth rejected with a mild frown. “Taking him back with us could be dangerous. He might report us to the authorities if he finds out who we are.”

“He’s a friend of Gray.” Meredy informed. “He won’t do such a thing.”

“It’s far too dangerous for _him_ if we leave him out here. It’s going to be night soon, and hardly anyone is going to be out here to find him.” Jellal said calmly. “Another attack like this could be triggered again.”

Macbeth scowled, but did not argue any further. Richard leaned down and scooped the unconscious mage into his arms. Meredy couldn’t help but noticed how lifeless and small Lyon looked against Richard’s imposing frame.

She stood up, brushing leaves off her skirt and followed her guild mates back to the camp worriedly.

* * *

 

Lyon’s throat felt raw and sore, like there’s a lump of ball being forcefully shoved down his windpipe. He felt like he had gone into a battle with Jura... and lost badly. His muscles were stiff and aching, and he woke up in an unfamiliar place surrounded by vaguely familiar people.

“I hate spring.” He sighed when he noticed the man sitting beside him. Something about that weird-looking eyebrows and hooked nose seemed familiar, but for the life of him, Lyon couldn’t muster up enough energy to _remember_.

“Hey, you’re awake.” The man greeted. “You must be thirsty.”

Common sense dictated that he shouldn’t be taking water from a stranger, but he was too tired and thirsty to care. Let him die poisoned if that’s the case, but it would be utterly stupid to die of thirst.

A redheaded man sitting a good distance away snorted out loud. Lyon ignored him in favour for the cup of water being shoved into his hands.

“Hey... do you remember me?” Eyebrows asked cautiously.

Lyon glanced at his face again. Blond and black mohawked hair, hooked nose, sunglasses and long eyebrows... The only thing that’s familiar was probably the eyebrows that’s far too much like Yuka.

“...Do I know you?” He asked, and it _hurts_ when he tried to speak.

The guy looked strangely _betrayed_ as he spluttered in outrage. Lyon was too worn out to wonder why. He has never met this guy before in his life.

“Let him rest, Sawyer.” A young woman walked over to them. “You don’t have to look this hurt that the guy that beat you couldn’t remember you.” She giggled at his annoyed squawk of _‘he didn’t beat me!’_. “Maybe he’ll remember you once he gets enough rest.”

“Meredy?” Lyon blinked up at her sleepily.

“He remembers _you_!” Eyebrows yelped in indignation.

Meredy laughed, shot him a cocky grin and kneeled down beside Lyon. She gently pushed him back down onto the sleeping bag.

“Go to sleep, Lyon. Don’t worry, we’ll still be here when you wake up.” She said softly. As he slowly let his lids fell shut, he felt blankets being draped over him.

He faintly heard Meredy spoke again, her voice smug as she addressed Eyebrows. _“Maybe it’s because I’m prettier than you.”_

Well, she’s not wrong... Meredy was cute enough to leave a lasting impression... With that last thought, he drifted off.


	22. autumn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's autumn, and autumn means it's time for Halloween.

Lyon might be a child of winter, but his favourite season has always been autumn. There’s just something enchanting about the setting sun turning the red leaves on the nearly bare tree golden, the dense fog during a chilly early morning turning the whole town slightly eerie, the fallen leaves piling up and crunching beneath his boots as he walked down the road and of course, the outbreak of pumpkin being incorporated into the menu _everywhere_.

Pumpkin spice latte, pumpkin muffins, pumpkin pie, and even pumpkin soup.

Margaret Town loved autumn, and they loved Halloween even more. By end of October, Lyon could see displays of the supernatural being decorated on every shop and home.

And, of course, the _pumpkins_. Who could forget them?

Lamia Scale has the tradition of celebrating Halloween every year, and the partying and revelry was boisterous enough to rival Fairy Tail.

Lyon found himself forced to dress up every year for Halloween, and it became even more troublesome after Sherry made a rule that no one could repeat the same costume each year.

He glanced at the ensemble Sherry had lay out over his bed in resignation. _At least it wasn’t too ridiculous_ , he mused. The hairband had a pair of canine ears attached to the band, soft-furred and an off white shade like his hair. With an air of tolerance, he fitted the band over his head. His silver hair easily concealed the furred band, and the pair of ears pressed snugly on the sides of his head. He carefully slipped in the crimson contact lens, blinking rapidly to let the lens settled gently on his irises. It felt strange to have something foreign in his eyes, and he fought the urge to rub the contact lens out. He tilted his head back, feeling for his incisor teeth and slipped on the fake fangs.

The grey sweater was slightly frayed, but it was warm around his body. He rolled up the sleeves, revealing the bandages around his forearms. His pants were black and tight around his legs, nearly cutting off his circulation. By the time he pulled them up, he was panting with exertion and resisting the urge to _murder_ Sherry. Finally, he slipped on the black boots, observing himself in the full-length mirror.

He looked believable as a werewolf, in any case.

As he was studying himself, Sherry barged into his room, nearly tearing the door off its hinges.

“Pictures!” Sherry took one look at him and squealed excitedly. She was dressed as a gothic witch, black frills and lips painted a navy blue. She was even wearing long false lashes, enhancing her blue eyes.

“Wait, wait!” She frowned as he made to leave his room. She dragged him back and dug into her cosmetic bag.

“I’m not wearing makeup.” He protested, scowling at her.

He grunted in irritation as she slid her thumb over the tip of her lipstick and reached up to rub across his bottom lip. He nearly bit down onto her thumb.

“Sherry!” He complained, trying to smack her hands away from his face.

“Just stay still!” She snapped, picking up her mascara tube. He watched her in confusion as she smeared the mascara ink over her thumb and middle finger. He instinctively closed his eyes as she reached out towards his face.

“You should wear makeup more often, Lyon-sama.” Sherry grinned. He could feel her finger rubbing under his eyes, probably smearing ink all over his face. “You have a face like art.”

“What does that even mean.” He said flatly, opening his eyes hesitantly when she finally stopped touching him.

He glanced at himself in the mirror. Burgundy red stained the corner of his lips, curving up towards his cheekbone, looking a little like dried blood. The corner and beneath his bottom lashes were flecked with mascara stains, and the effect gave his crimson eyes an eerie look.

“You’re all ready!” Sherry grinned in approval. “Come on!”

Outside his apartment, his entire team was waiting. Yuka, a vampire, looked majestic in his flowing cape and lined eyes. Toby, wrapped in bandages from head to toe, apparently was forced to forgo the werewolf look. He’s now a walking mummy with bloodstained bandages.

Demon girl Chelia bounded over, holding a camera in her hands and looking impressively frightening with her bright red lips and black lacy dress. The corners of her dress were cut in, baring skin with fake tattoos _(he hoped it’s fake)._ The moment she spotted Lyon, she screamed in girlish delight and snapped a photo of him. He grimaced at the flash of light, sighing as Sherry rushed over to look at the photo and they started fawning over how ‘adorable’ he looked.

 _Girls_ , he thought.

“Let’s get going to the guild.” Yuka said, patting his shoulder with a sympathetic grin.

Along the way, they had to stop several times as they purchased snacks at the street shops. By the time they reached the guild, Chelia was holding onto a giant teddy bear she had won off a shooting game, Toby’s arms were full of their cotton candy floss and handmade milk tea and a bag of egg waffles, and Lyon was treating himself to a stick of popsicle.

“You brats are late!” Ooba snapped as she tottered over.

Lyon growled in irritation, “Are you already _drunk_ , Master?!”

“Hurry get inside!” Ooba continued berating, ignoring his glower.

All the tables and chairs were cleared away, and the guild was decorated with pumpkins and black drapes and cobwebs. There were orange fairy lights wrapped around the pillars and hanging off the second-floor railings.

It had looked a mess in the day, but in the night, the guild’s lights were switched off and the fairy lights and pumpkin’s glowing eyes looked unearthly and sinister.

“Jura-san?” Lyon cried out in surprise. “You came?”

The older man grinned, clutching a glass of what looked like whiskey in his hand. He was dressed in priest-like clothing, although there was a fake scythe hanging off his waist. Maybe he was supposed to be a grim reaper.

“I took time off from the Magic Council.” Jura explained as he picked a cup shaped like a cauldron from the tray. The green liquid was smoking, the surface bubbling slightly. Jura handed it over to him with a challenging smile.

Lyon accepted the challenge and gulped down the strange bubbling beverage.

He found out that it was just tequila mixed with apple juice and green food colouring.

The lights dimmed as the opening magic act started and Lyon sat back to enjoy the show. There were various performances one after another, even a scandalous strip act that would normally sent Ooba into a fit, but she was too intoxicated and spinning whoever was unfortunate to go near her.

The Halloween celebration had gone on smoothly during the early evening, until people started drinking and getting into impromptu fights. Lyon would have stopped the fights –  being the responsible one – if some _moron_ hadn’t tripped and ripped his sweater, exposing his bare shoulder to the cold and then proceeded to spill beer over his pants.

The mini explosion of ice wrecked a couple of windows and even damaged one side of the stage, and upon seeing Lyon losing his temper, the rest of the guild started in on the fight as well.

And like as he had expected from a typical celebration and party from his guild, the resulting brawl had gone down in history as one of Lamia Scale’s most destructive as they nearly brought down the whole building.

The tirade they got from Ooba the next morning was all worth it though.

 


	23. family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's his birthday. It's also Christmas Eve. He's pretty used to his birthday coming second in the list of priorities.

Lyon’s birthday was, ironically, on Christmas Eve. Sherry had laughed the first time she learned of that, and had mercilessly teased him of being a literal ‘winter child’.

To him, birthdays were never a big deal. Everyone would be far too excited for Christmas the next day to even remember his birthday. And if they did, his birthday would usually be just a small celebration before everyone goes on to get ready for Christmas. So Lyon was pretty much used to everyone putting Christmas as priority over his own birthday.

He stopped celebrating his birthday after Ur’s sacrifice.

Until he returned to Lamia Scale, and for many years after that, his team never failed to celebrate for him. Just a home-cooked dinner and a birthday cake at the end of the day, but Lyon never asked for more.

He was used to a small gathering for his birthday every year. Or to be more specific, he _wouldn’t_ be used to his birthday being made a big deal anyway.

And once again, this year, Lyon woke up in the early morning of Christmas Eve to see snow piled up outside his window.

It doesn’t feel like he had gotten a year older.

So many things had happened in the past year, and it felt like a blink before December was already approaching.

After showering and dressing up, he left his room for breakfast. Only to be pleasantly surprised by the plate of omelette, sausages and bacons and a glass of orange juice on his dining table. It was kept warm by magic, and Lyon finished his breakfast in bewilderment and gratefulness.

As he cleared the utensils away later and got ready to leave for the guild, he found another surprise waiting for him by the doorway.

It was a plain box, no fancy ribbons, no decorations, not even a name to indicate who it’s from. He took off the lid with slight hesitance, peeking at the contents inside the box.

Inside was a beautiful winter coat the shade of charcoal grey with silver buttons and a black-furred hood. He ran his fingers over the coat in admiration, relishing in the soft texture. The coat was light-weighted and fitting and it was immensely comfortable when he slipped it on.

He vaguely wondered who had managed to sneak into his home while he’s asleep to cook breakfast and left the gift at his doorway.

He guessed he’d find out at the guild.

“Good morning, Lyon-sama!” As he was locking his front door, an excited voice called out and ran up to him.

“Juvia-chan?” He exclaimed in shock. Behind her, hands shoved in his pockets and looking bored, was Gray. “What are you both doing here?”

“Ah,” Juvia glanced almost shyly at Gray, before looking back at him. “Juvia found out from Gray-sama that it’s your birthday today. Juvia haven’t got time to find a present for Lyon-sama, but...” She started digging into the pockets of her coat. “Juvia and Gray-sama got you tickets for a weekend stay at Akane Resort.” She shoved the ticket at him with a coy smile, biting her bottom lip. “We heard that you’ve been really busy lately, so... Juvia thinks you should relax and have a short getaway trip.”

“That’s... really kind of you, Juvia-chan.” Lyon murmured, touched that she had bothered to get him a birthday gift and come all the way to Margaret Town to wish him happy birthday. He glanced at the ticket in his hand, looking almost confused.

He hasn’t visit Akane Beach for years, and the thought of going alone to enjoy the amusement park and five-star hotel was a little... lonely.

Gray coughed loudly, shooting Juvia a look that he wasn’t able to identify, but it made her blushed red.

“Juvia is hoping that you do not mind us coming along with you.” She smiled nervously.

He raised a brow at her, a tad incredulous. He glanced at Gray, who was pointedly avoiding his gaze.

“I... don’t mind.” He finally got out. He didn’t mention his disappointment that Gray was coming along. It felt a little weird to be tagging along the couple, in any case. But he supposed a vacation was a vacation. And he gets to go for free anyway.

“Great!” Juvia beamed, suddenly revitalized. “Then we shall set a date together later!”

He nodded mutely, cocking his head in bemusement.

“Let’s get going to the guild already.” Gray suddenly said, clearing his throat.

 _Why are **you** even heading to my guild? _He shot the younger man an annoyed look. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off as Juvia steered them both away from his door.

They spent the walk to Lamia Scale in relative silence, except for the occasional chatter from Juvia and the slight blush from Lyon every time she turned her stunning smile on him.

He noticed the both of them falling back as they neared Lamia Scale. Starting to feel a little suspicious, Lyon eyed his guild doors in wariness.

The moment he pushed open the door, he was nearly hit in the face by a streamer going off near his head.

**_“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”_ **

He stood frozen at the doorway, staring at the grinning faces and the hideous banner that stated ‘Happy birthday, Lyon!’ hanging above them.

“...What?” He blurted.

Gray laughed softly beside him and pushed him lightly through. His team immediately ran up to him.

“Great work stalling him, Juvia, Gray!” Chelia grinned.

Juvia curtsied with a large smile, her eyes twinkling in amusement. Gray shrugged, a little, sly smirk gracing his lips.

“Open your presents!” Toby demanded, pulling him over to a table of wrapped presents.

Lyon was finally unfreezing from his shock, and he gave Toby a curious smile. “Shouldn’t the unwrapping happens _after_ the cake?”

“Just open them already.” Sherry urged.

“Okay, okay.” Lyon laughed, reaching out for one hastily-wrapped box that has Toby’s name scribbled in marker at the side.

Socks, of course. Plain blue woollen socks that’s surprisingly not too bad-looking.

“Thank you.” He smiled at Toby, who flushed red and rubbed his nose in embarrassment.

Sherry’s gift was a handmade knitted scarf, a gorgeous blue grey shade that complemented nicely with his pale complexion and hair. Lyon could see the amount of effort and hard work put into the making of the scarf, so he patiently allowed Sherry to wind it around his neck. Like her cousin, Chelia’s gift was handmade and knitted. He obligingly slipped on the black winter gloves, nodding in appreciation at how warm and comfortable they feel around his hands.

Yuka gave him a set of incense sticks, with a variety of different fragrances – which, Yuka claimed, have soothing properties. He accepted them with a curious and interested smile, deciding to explore them when he’s back home later.

Jura’s present was a series of old, rare books about spell crafting and elemental magic that immediately put an unholy glint into Lyon’s eyes.

“By the way, that’s a beautiful coat. I don’t think I have ever seen it before.” Sherry commented, tugging at the sleeve of his coat.

“Did none of you give this to me?” He asked in confusion. His friends gave him blank looks in response, and he looked over at Gray and Juvia, who shook their heads in denial. “...What about the morning breakfast?”

“What about it?” Chelia asked.

Feeling a little blindsided, he shook his head slowly. “Never mind.”

“It’s time to cut the cake!” Ooba hollered, coming out with a giant chocolate cake.

As he had expected, when everyone started singing the birthday song – _horribly_ , might he add – he could feel himself squirming in embarrassment.

Like he said before, he wasn’t used to his birthday being made a big deal.

But as he leaned over to blow out the candles on the cake, he decided that this year’s birthday was the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus:
> 
> "Ul, hurry up!" Meredy hissed once she's done laying out the breakfast on the table. "I can't hold the sound barrier up any longer!"
> 
> Damn, but Lyon was a light sleeper. She nearly had a heart attack _twice_ when she felt him stirring through the magic link. She hoped she hadn't burned the eggs. 
> 
> "Ul!" She snapped, peering round the corner to see Ultear finally deciding on the perfect spot to position her present. "Let's go!"
> 
> The two vanished out of the window, just as the link disconnected and Lyon sleepily blinked awake.


	24. romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like morning light, sometimes love just creeps up on you out of nowhere. It’s warm and gentle, and subtle and unnoticed at times. Sometimes love is not noticing you’ve already fallen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay away if you don't like Lynerva (Lyon x Minerva).

Lyon enjoyed cooking as much as any other person.

He doesn’t, but he _could_. He learned to cook solely for the sake of his friends.

Someone had to know all the essentials when you’re living out in the wild after all.

He liked to think that he knew enough of taking care of himself as a man living alone in his own apartment. He could cook simple meals, wash his laundry and clean his own apartment. But he has never imagine doing something as domestic as this... Cooking pancakes for someone else, not because he had to, but because _he wanted to_.

He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of shuffling footsteps entering the kitchen. The smell of pancakes must have lured her from the bed.

“Breakfast?” Minerva murmured drowsily, looking unusually dishevelled. Her dark hair was not brushed, her overly large shirt slipping down one shoulder.

“Just give me a minute.” He nodded, turning back to his pancakes distractedly.

He heard her pulled the chair back and took a seat. It was tranquil silence for the next few minutes, just the sound of pancakes sizzling on the pan and their gentle breathings.

He could feel her heavy gaze at his back, and while it used to unsettle and discomfort him, now he felt strangely relaxed by her attention.

“Can you get the juice out of the fridge?” He asked, pouring the pancakes onto the plates. He turned away from the stove and started laying the utensils down on the table, just as Minerva got up and fetched the orange juice carton from the fridge.

“I’ll do it.” He grinned, taking the carton from her and grabbing two glasses from the cupboard. She sat back down with a bemused smile, watching him quietly as he busied around the table.

“Will you be returning to Sabertooth later?” He asked, when he’s finally done laying out the table and sitting down opposite her. He idly spread the butter over his pancakes, pouring a liberal amount of maple syrup on top.

“I thought I’ll stay for the night as well.” She shrugged, delicately cutting a piece of her pancake. “I have a shopping appointment with Yukino tomorrow. I’ll catch the first train back and grab breakfast with her.”

“So you’re all mine today?” He asked without thinking. By the time he realized what he just blurted out, it was too late to take the words back. They have never really affirmed their relationship out loud, never put words to whatever they have between themselves.

“Yes,” Minerva said after a brief awkward silence, averting her gaze with a light blush. She cleared her throat, her lips twitching. “I’m... yours for today.”

He felt something strange and hot bloomed in his chest, something he’s unwilling to acknowledge, so he nodded and returned to his breakfast. The silence that fell after that was peaceful nonetheless.

Once they were done, he got up and cleared the plates, stopping Minerva when she tried to help. He shot her a glare and swat her hands away, shooing her out of the kitchen.

She grinned and backed away, although she didn’t leave. As he washed the utensils, she leaned against the counter and watched him.

“Alright, I’m done.” He wiped his hands, putting the utensils aside to dry. “Let’s get changed. It’s the end of the month and I need to head to the guild early to double check the budgeting before I submits them to Master.” He turned to face her, a bright smile gracing his lips. “We can have the rest of the day together once I’m done.”

Minerva was watching him, a small smile on her face. Her gaze was unfocused and she blinked when he turned to address her. Without a word, she leaned forward and gently pressed her lips against his.

He froze in shock, whatever he was going to continue to say dying on his lips. He pulled back, blinking down at her.

“S – Sorry!” Minerva flushed bright red, looking mortified. She stepped away swiftly, and Lyon instantly missed the warmth of her body so close to him. He wanted to drag her back and continue the kiss, but it seemed that he had ruined whatever moment they had before.

“No, I’m sorry.” He interjected. “I was just surprised. I’m sorry.”

They have never kissed outside of the bedroom before.

It had honestly befuddled him when she had kissed him all of a sudden, and he had not known how to react.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have just... done that.” Minerva apologized, no longer looking at him. “I’m going to shower first.”

Lyon opened his mouth, reaching out to stop her, but she moved faster than he had expected. He sighed as the ends of her black hair swung out of sight.

“Lyon, you’re an idiot.” He scowled at his reflection on the metal stove. He could still feel the heat of her lips on his. His cheeks turned red, heart pounding in his chest. He wanted her to kiss him like that again.

He wanted to kiss her.

He’s going to fix this before she returned to Sabertooth.

* * *

 

Fortunately, the awkwardness had all but dispersed by the time they reached Lamia Scale. His guild had treated Minerva with caution and wariness in the beginning. No one could forget her brutal displays during the Grand Magic Games. It had taken everyone time to warm up to Minerva, and Lyon couldn’t help but admire her dignity and understanding.

Her efforts had eventually paid off. Nowadays, people stopped double-taking at the sight of her, and everyone greeted her with smiles and enthusiasm. It’s like they started seeing her as part of the guild as time goes by. He still couldn’t decide how he felt about that.

Even though they have never put a name to their relationship, it seemed that Lamia Scale had decided that Lyon now belonged to Minerva, to his chagrin. At least their involvement hadn’t been spread to the media yet, or else he’d have been hounded by the paparazzi and have their relationship plastered all over the papers.

Lyon liked being in the limelight, but it was a different matter entirely when it came to his personal life and personal relationships.

Sorcerer Magazine had learned their lesson painfully the last time they pried too deeply into his past and his relationship with Sherry. He doesn’t like his past with Ur being brought up, but the most infuriating part was the gossips the magazine had spread about his relationship with Sherry. The rumours had nearly destroyed the budding relationship between Sherry and Ren back then.

Lyon does. Not. Tolerate anyone making his family upset.

He’s not exactly hiding his relationship with Minerva, but he doesn’t flaunt it either. And it’s the first time Sabertooth and Lamia Scale worked together to protect the both of them by making sure no word of it gets out to the media. It’s amazing how a trivial matter like this could bring people of different guilds together.

Sometimes he still couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have been accepted back to Lamia Scale.

They left the guild at noon to catch their lunch at his favourite café, and then spent the rest of the day window shopping. It wasn’t one of their more fun dates by any means, but Lyon was simply happy to be spending time with Minerva.

At the end of the day, as they were getting ready for bed, Lyon finally gathered up his courage. He glanced over at Minerva, who was finishing up her beauty night care. As she slipped into bed next to him and switched off the table light, he suddenly sat up and swung his legs over her hips to pin her down.

“Lyon?” She yelped in surprise. 

“You know...” He started nervously. “If you wish to kiss me, you don’t have to ask for permission... or apologize.”

She remained silent, and his eyes was still adjusting to the darkness to be able to properly discern the emotion on her face. In a way, he felt less confident not being able to see her face.

“I don’t mind you kissing me.” Strange, there seemed to be a lump in his throat. He felt oddly vulnerable, and scared and anxious, the confusing mix of emotions clogging his words. Usually eloquent, it’s like his wits had deserted him all of a sudden. “I want to kiss you too. In bed, or outside… and even in public. I don’t want you to apologize, nor do I want to apologize for kissing you.”

He still doesn’t know or understand all these confusing feelings, but he wanted to be able to kiss her without fear, without judgement.

“Okay,” She suddenly said, her voice weirdly shaky and demure. She reached up to cup the back of his neck and pulled him down. “I won’t apologize then.”

She tilted her chin, her teeth catching his bottom lip. He sank into the kiss, oddly sweet and gentle, and he closed his eyes as he leaned his forehead against hers.

He doesn’t have a name to their relationship yet, but being here with her felt right.

* * *

 

As he sent Minerva off at the train station the next morning, he impulsively leaned over to kiss her.

At the look of surprise and fondness he caught on her face, and the brilliant smile she gave him before she left, he has a feeling that something in their relationship had shifted and changed.

Whether good or bad, he could only tell in the future.


	25. orientation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Sapiosexual**  
>  _Adjective_  
>  1\. Attracted to intelligence or the human mind.  
>  _Noun_  
>  1\. A person who is sexually attracted to intelligence or the human mind before appearance.

To outsiders, and perhaps, even to their own respective guilds and friends, the team making their way out of the train station make for a strange sight.

After all, it’s not like Team Raijinshu of Fairy Tail was ever seen interacting with Lamia Scale’s Lyon Vastia and Chelia Blendy before. They were only teamed up because of a joint guild practice that the various Guild Masters had recently organized in their last annual meeting. To foster closer bonds with different guilds, everyone was instructed to team up with mages from other guilds to partake in missions.

Most of the mages felt that it was a good exercise, and a great way to mingle with other people from other guilds and make new friends.

Lyon thinks it’s stupid.

In the beginning, he had already rejected this insane idea. But obviously, as a mere mage, he was largely outvoted by the rest of the Guild Masters. And as one of Lamia Scale’s S-Class mages, participating in the exercise was mandatory.

And so here he was, stuck in a team with Laxus Dreyar and his team. It was purely coincidence that Laxus had chosen him out of everyone else. He had been visiting Gray in Magnolia when Laxus had come upon them.

Apparently he only took Lyon along because their mission was located at a temple on a snowy mountain. Lyon brought Chelia with him to compensate for the imbalance in the team, and it was also a good way for the young woman to gain more experience.

Evergreen had clashed instantly with him, the pair exchanging heated and barbed insults every time they so much as glanced at each other. Bickslow seemed to take great amusement in their quarrels, egging them on loudly. Other than grunts of instructions, Laxus ignored him for the rest of the journey. Freed was the only one Lyon could remotely stand. The Letter mage spent half of his time trying to stop the disputes and yell at Bickslow. 

Chelia, predictably, got along with all of them, and surprisingly, seemed to hit it off quite well with Laxus. Maybe the moody Dragon Slayer has a soft spot for young girls.

Lyon would not know, since he’s not a bright-eyed little girl with the ability to charm anyone with an innocent smile.

That’s why, he thought viciously, he hated this stupid idea of an exercise.

Lyon was a private person, and he rarely allowed people close to his heart. It had taken years before Sherry, Yuka and Toby even managed to tear down the barrier around his heart and won his loyalty and trust. So that’s why he couldn’t be bothered to entertain with others. He knew that he has a difficult personality that not anyone could tolerate.

He was happy to steer clear of the Fairy Tail mages and let them complete their mission. He was merely there as a shield against the snowstorms and cold on the way up the mountain. The star of the show was Freed anyway, who was to repair and fortify the wards around the ancient temple. It could be easily accomplished by Freed alone, although Lyon soon understood why a team tagged along with the Letter mage.

The hike up the mountain was fraught with dangers and illusions meant to misdirect enemies off the path. _There were_ , Bickslow had uncharacteristically murmured softly, _souls lingering around the mountain._ The old magic around the mountain was so strong and suffocating that it had attracted lost souls to wander around.

As they reached the top, the snowstorm seemed to recede. The air was fresher and less suffocating high up in the clouds, and the view from above was breath-taking.

The temple was segregated into three different structures on three separate mountains. The buildings were connected by golden bridges. It wasn’t only the air up here, even the magic was different. Lyon felt chills as he stepped through the threshold.

The abbot that greeted them was an elderly man with snowy white hair and striking blue eyes. He smiled at them gently, and his eyes were intelligent and wise under his bushy brows. He directed Freed to the wards, and instructed the other monks to take the rest of the team to their quarters to rest.

Chelia was dragged away by Evergreen towards their rooms immediately, muttering about a hot shower, leaving the three men alone. The monks led them on a tour, and while Lyon was not one to pray or worship any gods, he could appreciate the beauty of the temple interior. It must have taken them centuries to build the temple.

Their final stop of the tour ended through a wide, ornate door that took at least three monks to push open. Lyon, who had been quiet the entire tour, felt as if his breath was punched from his gut as he registered the scene inside.

“Oh!” He gasped out loud, and his exclamation was almost breathless and giddy. With difficulty, he managed to regain his composure when Laxus turned around and raised a curious brow at him.

He had to fight not to blush at his loss of self-control. Ignoring Bickslow’s gaze on him, he concentrated on taking in the view of the _numerous_ books around him. The room was spiral-shaped, enabling him to see the shelves and shelves of books almost five-story high.

His inner bookworm was beyond excited and he felt lightheaded at the amount of knowledge hidden away in this mountain temple.

“You’re free to peruse the books in our library during your stay here, mages.” A monk said kindly.

Oh, the magic words. If Lyon was a weaker man, he’d have grovelled at the monk’s feet in gratitude. Instead, he simply thanked the monks as they left the library.

Ignoring the two Fairy Tail mages, he headed straight towards the books, not noticing if they had stayed behind as well or leave. Soon, he found himself immersed in the books, oblivious to the time until he heard his name being called.

“Lyon?” Freed shook his shoulder gently.

The Ice-make mage looked up from the heavy tome in his hands. The Letter mage was holding two cups of steaming coffee in his hands.

“I heard from Laxus that you’ve been sitting in here for hours?” Freed grinned. “It’s already night outside.”

“Thank you.” Lyon murmured as the Letter mage set the cup of coffee before him. He closed the heavy tome and set it aside delicately, careful not to be too rough with the yellowed pages.

“Are you done inspecting the wards?” He asked in curiosity, seeing the stacks of paper shoved between Freed’s armpit. As Freed spread them out on the table, he could make out complicated diagrams of runic configurations and numeric calculations scrawled untidily on the pages.

“Not yet. It seems they haven’t update the wards for the last one hundred years. Time had wear the magic out.” Freed sighed tiredly. “I was thinking of creating a new layer of protection runes as a base first before slowly building up the rest of the wards.”

“Do you need help?” He asked, distractedly rifling through Freed’s research and calculations. He didn’t notice the other man’s surprised look.

“Do you understand _jutsu shiki_ , Lyon?” Freed asked politely, not wanting to offend by sounding too incredulous.

“We have a Letter mage in Lamia Scale. Koji-san focused more on runic arrangement and crafting than actual combat magic though. He taught me a little about runes.” He shrugged. “I understand the basics and setting up simple barriers, that’s all.”

“Runic crafting?” Freed said thoughtfully. “Actually, I think that might be useful.”

He looked up and gave the Letter mage a small smirk. “I actually came across quite a few old books here that wrote about runic magic. I believe it may help you with your mission.”

Freed’s face lit up with interest and excitement, and he leaned over the table. “Yes! I think that will be able to tell me more about the wards they used here. Hiroshi-sama provided me some information, but unfortunately, he’s not an expert on warding and magic runes.”

“Well, then let’s get started. It seems we have quite a bit of work to do.” Lyon grinned, standing up to head towards the shelves of books.

* * *

The mission took quite a bit longer than the allocated time, but they managed to finish within two weeks. On their way back, Lyon could admit that he did enjoyed his time unexpectedly. Even though it was a lot of hard work deciphering the old books and helping Freed to craft the wards, he had fun and learned a great deal about Letter magic.

He supposed the Guild Masters’ idea was not _that_ bad after all, if all his teammates were like Freed Justine.

He rested his head against the cabin glass, watching the passing landscape outside the train. He had always been a hoarder for books, and as his greed for power transformed into an intense hunger for new knowledge, he couldn’t resist purchasing interesting, rare books whenever he came across them.

It was a pity he wasn’t able to take any book with him from the temple as they guarded and protected their books jealously. It was good enough that they had allowed him to peruse them in the first place.

“You have an intense look on your face, Lyon.” Chelia commented idly from the seat opposite him. “What are you thinking about?”

“Books.” He answered without thinking.

He felt a chill when her expression warped into a look of sadistic mischief and delight. He straightened up as she leaned forward in her seat.

“Aa, I see. So you’re thinking about Freed-san.” She said confidently. “I mean, the both of you had been really close for the last two weeks talking about _books_.”

“What has Freed got to do with anything?” He snapped, and to his horror, he felt the tips of his ears _burned_. “We were _working_.” 

_No, no, face, **don’t** blush._

Whatever Chelia saw in his expression, her smirk gained a filthy touch that should not be on the face on a fifteen-year-old teenager in the first place.

“ _Please_ , we all know of your fetish for intelligence.” She scorned. “All that research and complicated runes and Freed-san _teaching_ you Letter magic, I bet you were turned on.”

“I wasn’t turned on by him!” He nearly yelled, and immediately bit down on his bottom lip in panic. Team Raijinshu was just _next door_ , and he’s never going to live this down if Laxus with his damn Dragon Slayer hearing heard this conversation.

“You’re protesting too much, Lyon.” Chelia said sweetly, and god damn it, as if Sherry alone was not enough for him.

“Shut up, Chelia.” He retorted and returned to ignoring her vehemently.

When she finally gave up on teasing him and quieted down, dozing off in her seat, he let his thoughts wandered to the Letter mage of Fairy Tail. He remembered the intense concentration in teal eyes, the memory of Freed’s magic washing over his bare skin, sharp and potent like a polished blade, the amount of runic knowledge – both modern and obscure – that he possessed, that shrewd mind and intelligence—

 _Shit_. He was so fucked.

* * *

 

A sharp knock on his cabin door woke him up from his nap. The pungent scent of ozone alerted him to his visitors and he stood up to unlock the door.

“We’re getting off the train in the next stop.” Laxus informed gruffly. He turned to leave, then paused abruptly, gazing down at Lyon with a considering look. “You should drop by Fairy Tail more often.”

Lyon stared at the intimidating, broad back in bewilderment and bemusement.

“You’re not so bad, eh.” Bickslow said, the wide grin slightly unhinged. “See you both next time!”

He waved goodbye to Chelia, who returned his farewell enthusiastically. The floating dolls crooned repeatedly, spun around Lyon’s head once before following after Bickslow.

“Humph.” Evergreen gave him a blistering glare, although her eyes softened as she smiled at Chelia. Then, with one last lingering look, this time less of dislike and more of forced respect, she nodded at him and left.

“Lyon,” Freed smiled, and he looked distracted and jittery, unable to relax. “It’s time for me to leave.”

He gave the Letter mage a perplexed stare. Freed has never once showed any sign of anxiety or awkwardness the entire time they were together.

“There’s this book cafe in Crocus. It has really good coffee and rice cakes.” Freed cleared his throat. “I thought, maybe you would like to join me next week for coffee? And maybe we can visit their nature conservatory after that.”

Lyon felt his mind slowed to a screeching halt, and for a long moment, his expression was frozen in disbelief.

Freed was inviting him for coffee. _Freed was asking him out on a date_.

No. No, no, Lyon does _not_ do dates. He had one-night stands, not dates. Nobody would have looked at him and wanted to date him, because he’s too cold, too sharp-tongued, too _insolent_.

He’s going to have to reject Freed, as nice _(and utterly **brilliant** )_ the man was. Besides, wasn’t the guy infatuated with Laxus? The date was going to combust before it’s even going to start. It’s not going to work. He’s going to say no and pretend that Freed had never asked him out the next time they see each other again.

“Okay.” But that’s not what came out of his mouth.

He’s a weak, _weak_ man.

He had one second of panic and mental screaming that he forcefully kept from showing on his face before Freed’s nervous expression was overwhelmed by relief and delight.

“Okay. Okay, I’ll see you next week then.” Freed smiled. “I’ll send you the details later.”

He must have agreed or something, because Freed smiled wider and got off the train. But not before reaching out to brush aside a silver lock of hair in his eye. Lyon had stiffened at the touch, but did not protest.

“A date.” He said out loud to an equally surprised Chelia standing quietly behind him. “I got a date.”

“Yes, yes, you did.” Chelia said gently, patting his shoulder. “Freed-san asked you out.”

Shit, he’s so **_fucked_**.


	26. religion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Lyon takes the jobs that are ‘blacklisted’. They are the jobs no one wants to take, that no one _dares_ to take. Sometimes, for the good of the country, some people needs to be cleaned up like trash.

Unlike Fairy Tail, Lamia Scale does not have an abundance of S-Class mages available, but they have Lyon Vastia.

In Fiore, if you needed some heavy-handed firepower, the best bet was to hire some Fairy Tail or Sabertooth mages. If you required subtlety and ruthless logic, then Lamia Scale would be the one to go to.

Lyon does not mind these sort of jobs, contrary to popular belief. He knew that he has to do what needed to be done sometimes. Not all evil could be redeemed just because they were served the usual Fairy Tail ass kicking. Sometimes they refused to be redeemed. Sometimes their existences proved far too dangerous to be allowed alive.

Sometimes they were just _evil_.

This was most probably the fifth Zeref cult he had to take down in his entire lifetime. He might not have much experience in battling super powered and almost invincible opponents, but he could safely claim that he has seen almost all possible kinds of evil committed.

Human sacrifice was the norm for a Zeref cult, and most of the time, Lyon had arrived far too late to save anyone.

He thought that after Zeref was _gone_ ; no seal, no more immortality to save him anymore, just dead, dead, _dead,_ the worship of the Dark Mage would finally subsided. No such luck. Suddenly, all the fanatic cultists started popping out from wherever they were previously hiding, gathering like-minded followers and causing havoc throughout the country. The Royal Army has been taking steps to stamp out these zealots, but they lacked the resources and power a guild mage possessed.

This was most probably the largest cult he had to destroy, and it had taken them weeks of planning and strategizing on the best way to approach. They were not sure how many hostages were taken, or how many were still alive, and charging in recklessly was detrimental to their safety.

In the end, Lyon had implanted a tracker into his arm, used himself as bait to be captured, and led his team to the hideout of the cult. He had left the clean-up of the corpses to his team as he hunted down the remnants of the cultists. The cult leader had escaped the raid, but he had already sent his ice birds out to track the man down. He rolled up his sleeve, feeling for the tracker beneath the skin. With a grimace, he sliced the skin open and dug the tracker out.

It was fortunate that they had thought of implanting a physical tracker instead of a magical one, as the cultists had immediately slapped magic-restraining cuffs on him when they caught him.

There was a squawk overhead, and the sound of wings flapping signalled the return of his ice hawk. He stretched out an arm, rocking back on his heels as the bird landed.

“Have you found him?” He murmured. The bird’s strangely rounded eyes stared at him without blinking, before its head swivelled away. As the hawk took off once more, Lyon kicked off the ground and followed after it. With his hawk’s guide, he caught up to the cult leader immediately, casting a shield in front of the man to block his path.

“Father Koresh,” He addressed coolly, slowing to a stroll.

The man had been terrifically charismatic. He had been kindly and understanding, frighteningly cold in his compassion and barely batted an eye when he sacrificed a child at his command. Now he looked insane, his eyes rolling and lips pulled back in a snarl.

“LORD ZEREF WILL NOT FORGIVE YOU FOR BESMIRCHING A PRIEST OF THE DARK MAGE! HE WILL RETURN AND GIFT US WITH VICTORY AND SALVATION.” He screamed, lunging at Lyon recklessly. “HE WILL STRIKE YOU HEATHENS DOWN AND REMAKE THIS WORLD!”

“Well,” He scoffed, raising his arm. “I have never been much of a believer of any gods. I’m not sure I want forgiveness from your Lord Zeref, in any case.”

There was a sharp, tensed pause, as if the world had stopped breathing for a moment, and then a loud snap and a gutted gasp.

The world continued moving on.

* * *

 

“Lyon, we’re nearly all done here.” Yuka informed, eyeing the blood stains on his clothes with a slightly nauseated expression. They might have to do the dirty work for the kingdom, but that doesn’t mean they have to like it.

“Casualties?” He asked, shrugging off his torn jacket and using it to wipe the blood off his hands.

“Forty-six casualties, eighteen of which are the cultists, all dead.” Yuka notified detachedly. “We managed to find eight survivors. I have instructed Toby to take them to the hospital for treatment.”

“Join him.” He ordered, glancing over at all the bodies on the ground. They were already covered up by sheets. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

Yuka hesitated, one part of him clearly wanted to help, but another that clearly wanted to leave as well.

“Go,” He said, his tone firm. “Leave the rest to me.”

With an unsure nod, Yuka left. Lyon exhaled tiredly as his friend slowly vanished out of sight. That’s why he hated taking his team along with him during this sort of jobs. It affected them badly, although they were good at pretending it doesn’t.

He walked over to a tree stump and sat down to wait for the Royal Army. The air was heavy with the stench of death, he’s sitting here alone surrounded by the dead and the blood was caking beneath his fingernails.  

It’s going to be a long night.


	27. beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s beauty, she’s grace, she’s Lyon and he’s going to disembowel his team for forcing him to dress as a woman.

Lyon had outlined and gone through the mission parameters, even researched the people involved extensively. They were hired by CEO Louis Ansband, of La Giglio Company, to investigate whether his Treasurer, Kagerou Faust, was embezzling funds from his business. Their target was the silver key that hung around Faust’s neck. Said key was only taken off during bath time, and it opened to the safe box in Faust’s office. They had planned on an approach-and-distract to get the key, but they were stuck on the _how_.

“Seems like the guy is a lecher. He frequents the brothel quite often.” Sherry murmured, bended over the files spread out in front of her.

“What about the honey trap method?” Yuka said slyly, grinning at her.

Lyon jerked, frowning instantly. It’s not like he doesn’t know that Sherry could take care of herself, but he’s not quite sure if he wants her so close to Faust.

“Nuh, uh. I don’t think it’s going to work this time around.” Sherry twirled around in her stool, sliding her reading glasses off. “Faust has a particular taste in his women.”

The three men gave her looks of curiosity, making her smile grew.

“I managed to get the pictures of some of the known women he hangs around quite often.” She explained, picking up a brown file and pouring out the contents onto the table. Photographs of women spilled across the files and papers.

Lyon picked up one of the samples and studied the dark-skinned blonde in the photograph. Another picture was of a redhead with a short pixie cut and freckles over her nose. There was another that’s dark-haired and brown eyes a little too big on her face, but somehow she still managed to catch his attention.

“Can you tell what’s similar between all these women?” Sherry questioned smugly.

Toby was squinting at a buxom brunette clad in rather skimpy attire, looking entirely dazed.

“No?” Yuka answered instead, blinking at her in confusion.

She exhaled loudly, slapping her hand against her forehead.

 _“Men.”_ She muttered. She snatched the photograph out of Toby’s grip, and spread them all out on the table. “Look! They are not really beautiful, aren’t they?”

“I think they’re quite pretty.” Toby mumbled. He was ignored.

Lyon studied the photos once more. Well, he supposed he could see what Sherry meant. They weren’t great beauties, but they all possessed striking features that people couldn’t help but notice.

“That’s why I can’t be the one that seduce Faust.” Sherry said, folding her arms under her chest. “But we can always send Lyon-sama in.”

It took a while before what she said registered, so utterly random and sudden no one had time to understand what’s she saying.

“Huh?” Toby echoed what the other men were thinking.

Sherry looked excited, and she jumped off the stool, seizing Lyon by his shoulders.

“It’s perfect, isn’t it?!” She exclaimed. “Look at him! Lyon-sama’s good-looking, but in a really unconventional way. I think Lyon-sama would look really great as a woman!”

“I’m not being the bait!” He rejected instantly, backing off warily. To his horror, Yuka was gaining a thoughtful look. Toby was scrunching his nose, as if he was trying to imagine Lyon as a woman.

They were actually considering Sherry’s ridiculous idea!

“I am not getting into a dress!” He growled.

* * *

He got into a dress.

At least it wasn’t short, or lacy, or _tight_. Sherry fitted him into a dark blue kimono with white flowers patterned down the skirt and a crimson obi. At least it could cover up the lack of womanly curves and his masculine figure.

They couldn't exactly find a wig with the exact same shade as his hair, so he was forced to take a hair-growing potion that made his hair grew rapidly within minutes. Sherry tied his hair into an elegant chignon, taking the shorter strands to frame the sides of his face.

And last but not least, the makeup, which Sherry seemed to take sadistic delight in. She smoothed out the sharp angles of his face, put a gentle pink on his cheekbones to make him look like he’s constantly blushing and framed his eyes with kohl. Lastly, she selected a berry red lipstick so he wouldn't look so washed out against his pale complexion and silver hair.

“Lyon, if you were born a girl, I wouldn't mind dating you.” Yuka commented, trying to stifle his laughter. He dodged the hair brush thrown at his head.

“You have a face like art.” Sherry giggled, hands twitching to get the camera out from her bag.

He felt like he has heard her said this before.

“Can we just,” He snarled. “Get this over with?”

He tried to stomp off, but nearly tripped over the sandals. _Damnit._

“Be a little more ladylike, Lyon-sama!” Sherry scolded, grabbing his arm to steady him. He wanted the ground to swallow him now, just to get away from Toby and Yuka’s infernal snickering.

* * *

“Oh? I have never seen you here before. Are you new?” Faust was not a particularly handsome man. Nice to look at, perhaps. But a little too plain-looking to attract women’s attention.

Lyon realized he was staring at the man and quickly nodded in response to his question. He had been a beat too late in responding and hoped Faust didn’t notice anything amiss. Fortunately, the man had interpreted his anxiety as nervousness and chuckled fondly. He does seem to like what he’s looking at, judging from the wandering gaze.

Lyon has no idea if he should feel flattered or disgusted.

“What’s your name?” Faust asked, closing the door behind him. It’s like watching him coaxed a frightened kitten. Lyon wanted to punch him for that.

“Lyon...a.” He murmured. His throat hurts when he changed his voice, so he hoped that Faust does not expect him to talk much.

“Lyona?” Faust clarified. “That’s a lovely name for a lovely girl.”

His hand twitched, but he mustered up a small smile. He reached for the pot on the table, eager to occupy his hands with _something_ before he does anything stupid like wrung the guy’s neck for being the cause of his current misery.

Miles away, a certain group of three was observing what was happening with the binoculars.

“What are they doing now?” Toby demanded, trying to grab the binoculars from Sherry. She kicked him away with a foot.

“I don’t know, I can’t see—” She scowled. “Faust shut the damn door.”

The doors were made of translucent paper over a frame of wood. Despite the binoculars’ amazing zooming ability, all she could make out was shadowy figures moving inside the room.

“Do you think Faust will believe the disguise?” As funny as it was, Yuka was a little sceptical that Faust would be convinced by the charade. Lyon does look believable as a woman, but he can’t act _at all_. And Lyon has an infamously quick temper that they were very familiar with. The man has a tendency to respond with violence when he’s stressed, or frustrated, or _angry_.

“It will be fine.” Sherry replied, but she doesn’t sound certain. “Lyon-sama can take care of himself even if something goes wrong.”

“I don’t know, Lyon goes too far sometimes when he wants to get something though.” Toby remarked. It was a casual observation, almost idle, but it made Yuka and Sherry’s anxiety level raised instantly.

Lyon could be scarily intense when he’s trying to achieve his goal. Prone to stupidity and impulsiveness like most men, but definitely ten times more frightening. They have all seen and experienced first-hand Lyon’s fierce determination and resolve.

“What if something happens to Lyon because he thinks he can do it?” Toby continued murmuring, oblivious to his friends’ death glares. “What if Faust… you know? And well, then what if—”

“No, I don’t damn know!” Sherry shrieked, dropping the binoculars as she surged up. She spun around to shoot him a venomous glare, causing him to yelp in fright. “And I don’t damn well want to know what that Faust wants to do!”

“Huh?” Toby’s face was blank with confusion.

“Goddamnit, what if Lyon-sama does something stupid?!” She ranted, shoving her hair out of her face angrily. She exchanged dreaded looks with Yuka, and without a word, the pair dashed out of their hideout.

“Guys?” Toby called out in alarm.

Sherry was too panicked to think of the consequences if they just barged right into the room. Lyon has always been quietly protective of her whenever she gets into a new relationship, or even when they were fighting alongside in a battle, trusting in her choice and ability to protect herself, but he never failed to be there for her when something goes wrong, lending a shoulder to cry on or even executing revenge for her broken heart.

What people failed to understand was that Sherry Blendy was as fiercely protective of her boys as they were of her.

She slammed the doors open, almost tearing its fragile hinges off, adrenaline running high and ready to kick some ass.

Lyon blinked back at her, looking annoyingly pretty with his long pale lashes and dark lips. He was standing unruffled, clutching something in his hand. A body lay motionless on the ground beside his feet.

“Did you kill him?” Yuka blurted, appearing beside her.

Lyon rolled his eyes, stepping over the body. He thrusted his hand at Sherry, and she dumbly reached out to grab whatever he’s shoving at her. A silver key was dropped onto her palms.

“I slipped a drug into the pot of tea I brewed for him.” He explained. “It’ll probably worked for an hour or two. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Got it.” Yuka snapped out of his daze first, taking the key from her and rushing off.

“So why are you guys here?” Lyon asked, glancing over at her curiously. “I thought we agree to meet at the brothel’s entrance.”

“Er,” Sherry coughed and blushed. She couldn't tell him that she dashed over because she’s afraid Faust might be doing something to him, right? “You were a little long, that’s all. I thought something held you up.”

Lyon stared at her with a peculiar look. Thankfully, he seemed to accept her explanation and nodded, leaving the room. To her annoyance, it seemed that he had easily picked up moving about in a kimono already. He was far more graceful in that ensemble than she’ll ever be in her entire life.

She left the room, but not before she kicked Faust’s unconscious body in pettiness.

* * *

When all was said and done and the evidence handed over to Louis Ansband, Lyon’s hair had come out of its chignon, pale strands falling around his face.

“I’m never doing this again.” He scowled at them, struggling to rip the obi off him. He felt suffocated wrapped in all the fabric, and it was sheer miracle he hadn’t stripped off yet throughout the short fight with Faust’s bodyguards. “And if this gets out to _anyone_ , I swear I’m going to kill you all.”

“Noted.” The three said in unison, smiling innocently at him.

He was currently far too pretty to take seriously at the moment.

He gave them a suspicious frown, that looked more like a pout with his painted lips, and stomped off.

“You better have photos.” Sherry hissed, nudging Yuka roughly.

The Anti-mage humphed, looking irritatingly smug and self-satisfied. He dug into his sleeve, pulling out several snapshots of ‘Lyona’.

“I even have _copies_.” He grinned mischievously.

Sherry smirked at him, feeling the urge to giggle loudly.

Damn, she loved her boys.


	28. sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyon has been working too hard recently, and Chelia's going to get him to sleep no matter what it takes.

If there’s anyone more stubborn than Lyon, _well_ , Chelia has never met that person before. He was cold and unyielding when he wanted his way, even though he practiced dynamic magic. Sometimes, he was wilful to the point that _she_ wanted to strangle him in frustration. And it added to her dilemma when his stubbornness affected his health. As a healer, she couldn’t help but make sure her friends were all well taken care of. Even after losing her magic, she didn’t lose that protective streak.

Lyon has been working hard lately, and she could see the stress and work piling up on his shoulders. All the paperwork stacking up on his desk, never-ending and seemingly untouched, even as he burned the midnight oil working on them.

Lyon was the type of person that refused to rest until he’s sure his work was completed, and now it seemed it’s coming back to bite him in all the worst ways. Chelia cannot claim to really understand what all the paperwork was for, although she knew that he used to manage the guild’s budgeting and finances.

She has seen them, all filed in alphabetic order, and unnervingly neat and organized.

It’s a surprise the guild hasn’t collapse before Lyon joined and handled all the administrative work. It was no secret that Ooba _hated_ paperwork.

She has seen the dark circles under Lyon’s eyes, and the fact that he has been constantly yawning quite recently. Getting him to sleep was tough, as he kept giving excuses that _he’ll be done in ten minutes_ , or that _he has to finish this **now** before he can rest. _

He doesn’t even budge when _Sherry_ threatened him to go to bed. It’s already becoming quite serious.

Jura was away from the guild with Magic Council stuff, the only person that she believed have the _slightest_ chance of convincing Lyon to take a break.

So now it’s left to Chelia and she’s going to pull out all the stops to force him to sleep no matter what, even if this might mean losing Lyon’s trust.

* * *

The peppermint tea smelled heavenly as she carried the pot towards Lyon’s work area – which pretty much meant the storage area where all the administrative files were kept. Steam fogged the transparent teapot and the peppermint leaves floated dreamily on top of the tea.

“Lyon, I brought some refreshments!” She announced as she entered the storage room.

The man didn’t even look up, and simply paused briefly to acknowledge her presence. She set the tray down on the table, away from the stacks of paper. As much as she needed this plan to work, she’s not going to risk spilling tea all over the paperwork.

Lyon would throttle her with her own spine and hang her upside down on the guild doors as a warning.

“Have some tea.” She cajoled, picking up the teapot carefully and filled two cups. “I have brewed some peppermint tea. It’s supposed to boost the immune system, relax the body and mind and improve digestion.”

Lyon finally looked up, peering at her thoughtfully. The fragrance of the tea was soothing and tempting enough to lure him from his work.

“I’ll drink it later. Leave it there.” He said. Ever since the loss of her magic, Chelia has been trying to find ways to continue being a mage. With dogged determination and perseverance, she refused to let such a trivial thing bring her down.

She had picked up the art of tea brewing quite recently, citing the health benefits of different types of tea. She might not be able to support them medically through magic, but she could still take care of their wellbeing in different ways.

“It’s going to go cold if you drink it later.” She reprimanded in disapproval. “At least take a sip. I know you, you’ll keep working and forget about everything around you.”

He sighed, putting down his pen in resignation. He lifted the cup of tea to his lips and took a sip. As expected, it was delicious, the peppermint taste rich on his tongue.

“Are you satisfied now?” He asked, giving Chelia a pointed look.

She looked entirely far too smug, bringing her own cup of tea to her lips. She licked her lips, nodding in approval at the taste, and gave him a feral smile that sent alarm bells ringing in his head.

“I am.” She answered.

He barely had a minute to wonder at the catlike smile before he felt his world tilting sharply.

 _That little wretch!_  

“Sorry, Lyon,” She sounded apologetic, at least. “But this is for your own good.”

That was the last thing he heard from her before everything went dark.

* * *

 

Not surprisingly, he found himself in his own room when he woke up. He found a steaming teapot of peppermint tea, kept warm by magic. It has a sticky note stuck to the pot and he unstick it to read the note.

 

_‘I kept the tea warm for you! Don’t worry, it’s not drugged this time! You should get more rest. I have gotten the rest of the team to help out with the workload!’_

 

Even though he’s pissed at Chelia’s trick, he admitted that he probably needed the sleep. He’s more refreshed and rested, and the pounding headache that has been bothering him the last few days had disappeared.

He felt just a little bit worried about his team handling the paperwork. Yuka was methodical, but Sherry and Toby disliked paperwork as much as their Master does.

The soft bed and the aroma of peppermint tea made the decision for him. He lay back down, breathing quietly in his room.

He supposed resting for a couple more hours should be fine.


	29. home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One way or another, he’s going to get his team home. Alive and safe, just as he had promised Ooba. 
> 
> _Or, that one time when Lyon threatened the king’s cousin._

There were many infamous tales that graced the halls of Lamia Scale Guild. Mages were known to be really terrible gossipers when they were bored, _or_ drunk, and they _talked_ the moment they were elbow-deep in booze. And if they tended to embellish, well, no one has to know after all.

There’s that one story about how Toby Horhorta got so drunk he ran down the streets in Margaret Town in his birthday suit, and then there’s one about Sherry Blendy burning a church down after a man disgraced her in public, and may God forgive her for such sacrilege because Ooba definitely hadn’t.

The most notorious one, anyone – mage or civilian – would proclaim proudly, was the one where Lyon Vastia infamously lose his cool and threatened the king’s royal cousin.

The actual truth had been twisted over the years – as those present at the scene hadn’t expounded much on what had actually happened on that day.

What everyone does know was that Lyon remained mulishly silent every time the rumour was brought up, Sherry would crack a creepy grin that scare off any curious askers, a similarly disturbing smile would adorn Toby’s lips and nobody wanted to even bother contemplating _that_. Toby was weird enough without digging into the crevices of his mind. Yuka was unconscious the entire time and thus has no idea what happened until everything was over and even then, he has a feeling his team was still hiding _a lot_ of things from him. Jura swore that a decade of his life was cut off from all the complaints he received thereafter. And then he would fish out an expansive bottle of brandy and tried valiantly to drown that particular mission from his mind.

 

* * *

**_X788, June 15, three years before the return of the lost Fairies_ **

 

“Is there any point in us doing this?” Sherry grumbled, resisting the urge to squirm in her spot. Her calves were aching from the strain from standing still for hours, and her smile was getting pinched. Her expression smoothed out as a couple passed by her spot and she greeted them with a beatific smile. As if it’s not enough standing guard at a banquet held by Lord Abel Giovanni the Third, she had to endure the lascivious looks she was getting from these disgusting noblemen. Thank god at least none of the creeps had tried to approach her yet.

Nobles tended to regard the mages of Fiore as savages, and uncivilised barbarians at worst. She betted that none of them dared to sully their ‘pristine’ selves with mages, the only reason why they did not try to hit on her.

“We’re getting paid to guard Lord Giovanni.” Lyon replied, boredom in his voice. She hated that he still looked as stoic as ever, seemingly untouched by exhaustion or hunger. “Stop complaining.”

“Think of the money after this job.” Yuka suggested on the other side of the door, a grin playing on his lips.

 _“God.”_ She exhaled in irritation, not sure if she’s begging or cursing God’s name. “When is this party going to end?”

“I’m hungry.” Toby moaned plaintively, stomach rumbling as he gazed at the banquet table from afar.

Lyon’s gaze flickered over to his team, taking stock of the visible tiredness on them. He could feel the exhaustion gnawing at his muscles as well, but he was too self-disciplined to let it showed on his face. He wanted this party to be over as well, and wasting his breath was precious energy so he kept quiet. It’s only because of a favour to Jura, he reminded himself, or his team and he would be taking down bandits in the west right now.

He really loathed being around nobility.

Perhaps it was the fatigue, or hunger, but he did not sense the attack until the windows shattered and armed men crashed into the ballroom.

“Yuka, protect Lord Giovanni!” Lyon ordered, rushing forward to intercept the group.

Despite his earlier weariness, exhilaration immediately pumped through his blood. He sent a wave of ice across the marble flooring to cut off the attackers’ route, giving time for the guests to flee through the other side. Sherry had melded the tables together, and the golem was escorting the frightened mass towards the door – away from the fight.

He could spy Jura upfront with the Lady Giovanni and her three young children, and Yuka was racing towards the man they were supposed to be protecting this evening.

Lyon caught the sudden movement as one of the attackers broke free of his ice enchantment and charged towards Lord Giovanni, pulling a pistol free from his holster.

He was too far away to stop his friend as he jumped in front of the target. A loud bang echoed in the ballroom, and he instinctively flinched.

“Yuka!” Toby screamed.

Fury washed over Lyon, sweeping away all logic and composure. He struck Yuka’s attacker through the chest, and when he judged the assassin properly dead, threw him aside to rush to his friend’s side.

The bullet had penetrated skin, and Lyon’s quick, deft fingers ripped open his vest to assess the damage properly. Blood immediately oozed out of the wound.

“We need a doctor!” Lyon said frantically, looking up. Jura was running over, and Sherry and Toby had finally managed to evacuate the guests and incapacitated all the assassins.

“He’s losing blood too fast.” He swallowed back the bile rising up his throat. “The bullet is in too deep. I don’t think I can take it out without damaging his lung.”

“Lord Giovanni, we need a doctor. Our friend is injured and needs to be seen to.” Jura’s voice was deferential, yet urgent as he addressed the approaching Lord. He casted a sharp gaze around the wrecked ballroom. “Perhaps we will be allowed to take our friend to a room?”

“No.” The Lord was staring distastefully at the damage in his ballroom. The fear was quickly abating, and his pudgy cheeks were flushed with anger. “What is the meaning of this, Wizard Saint Neekis? You were recommended by the King, but you failed to detect or stop the attack. These men,” He shot the bounded assassins a furious look. “Barged right into my home and frightened all my guests!”

For a second, Jura thought that he had heard wrong.

“What’s taking so long, Jura?” Lyon asked, looking up from the ground. “Yuka needs a doctor right now!”

He glanced at the furious Lord, and passed the unconscious Yuka into Toby’s arms.

“What’s going on?” He demanded, coming up beside Jura.

Lord Giovanni scowled at him. “The King spoke highly of Lamia Scale’s reputation, and _yet_ you failed to prevent this attack from happening!”

“Yuka needs a doctor right now.” Lyon repeated, eyes wide in shock. He glanced at Jura, and saw the building rage on the Wizard Saint’s visage. “My friend was hurt while protecting _you_ , Lord Giovanni. If you’re unable to produce a physician, that’s fine. Kindly provide us a room to bring our friend to.”

“No. No!” The Lord yelled. “I will not have the dirty blood of commoners – much less _mages_ to stain my duvets! Do you know how expensive they are?”

For a moment, Lyon’s expression was blank. Jura feared that he had gone into shock.

“Lord Giovanni, we’re not _requesting_.” Jura said sternly. “Our friend’s life is in grave danger for every precious second we’re wasting.”

“What appalling manners! Get out of my house! Mark my words, I will definitely apprise His Majesty on how terrible and incompetent Lamia Scale mages are!” Lord Giovanni spat.

Jura felt his magic rumbled under his skin, his lips tightening in speechless rage. He has never before felt such urge to punch a man before.

And yet the man before him was no ordinary man. He’s the king’s cousin, and a Lord of his own right.

Suddenly, there’s the sound of steel screeching against marble and then there’s a sword in Lord Giovanni’s face. The blade was rusted, and Jura has clearly seen swords of better quality, but a sword was still a weapon, and in Lyon Vastia’s hands, anything could be a weapon.

Lyon had snatched up one of the swords scattered on the ground, and despite the fury he’s feeling, his mind was startlingly clear and calm. His hand was steady around the sword’s hilt, and for a fleeting moment, he wanted to kill this man and that should scare him _(it doesn’t, and maybe that cold rage says something about him)_. He simply felt unshakably serene, like an eye of the storm.  

“My Lord, my friend protected you from an attempted assassin. If it wasn’t for him taking the bullet, the one lying on the ground would be _you_.” He could barely hear his own voice, as calm as still water. He was aware of the repercussions of holding a sword to Lord Giovanni’s face, but at the moment, he _does not care_.

He swore to protect his friends. He swore to always bring them home safe, and this disgusting pig of a man was in his way from doing so.

“You will move aside, my Lord. And you will stay here with your family while Jura notifies the authorities to collect these men. You will not stop me or my friends from taking care of Yuka, because if His Majesty finds out about _your_ appalling manners and how you treated the man who got shot while protecting you, he’ll _not_ be very happy.” He might as well be speaking of the weather, from how steady he sounded. He dropped the useless sword and the loud clang caused the Lord to jump in shock.

“Let’s go.” He ordered, walking off without waiting for a reply. Toby has Yuka draped over his back, and Sherry pressing her hand onto Yuka’s back. They were silent as they followed Lyon out of the ballroom.

* * *

They managed to get the town doctor to Yuka in time. There might be some kidnapping involved, with the lack of time to explain and Yuka’s life counting down the longer he waited without immediate treatment. Luckily, the doctor had not been angry and had immediately got to work the moment he assessed the situation. With the bullet taken out and the wound stitched up, Sherry thanked the doctor profusely as she escorted the man out. Lyon sank to the ground, his eyes fluttering in relief. He could feel a presence beside him, and he leaned against Toby’s warmth.

“He’s alive.” He murmured out loud, as if he could not believe his words.

Toby rumbled in agreement and they stayed silent for the next few minutes, watching the sleeping man in the luxurious bed breathed. Lyon was faintly aware that his clothes and hands were still stained with blood, and the back of Toby’s clothes were in a similar state, but neither of them felt like moving.

“So you threatened the king’s cousin.” Toby suddenly blurted, torn between horror and awe.

Lyon sniffed haughtily, and his voice cracked in a small sob and a weak chuckle. “I did _not_ threaten the king’s cousin.”

“You know, you pulling a sword in the guy’s face kinda _implied_.” Toby pointed out, but he was also chuckling. His laughter rolled in his chest and Lyon closed his eyes to the sound of Toby’s mirth.

“I’ll think of the consequences later.” He muttered tiredly.

Toby shifted closer, sliding lower down the wall so Lyon could rest his head properly on his shoulder.

“We’ll be right there with you.” He said quietly. “No way you’re taking everything on your shoulders again.”

He thought he heard Lyon muttered an agreement, but when he looked down, their bold, reckless and utterly insane leader was dozing. He grinned, leaned back and closed his eyes as well.


	30. bedroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year ago, they met in a theatre, and Rogue Cheney’s breath was taken away by the lovely Snow Prince on stage. At the end of the day, he had said Snow Prince in his bedroom, all debauched and asking to be fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was feeling... randy when I wrote this. Nsfw crack pairing Rogue/Lyon smut ahead.

Rogue watched the man on the stage in undisguised surprise and intrigue. He might not have met Lyon Vastia before, but the man was certainly memorable. He has seen the Ice-make mage in passing in a magazine once, but the man was not easy to forget.

Although right now, he was not Lyon Vastia but the Snow Prince, silver hair perfectly coiffed and an apple of his cheek flecked with glittery silver dust. The shine on his face made his eyes looked unbelievably dark and huge.

He had to swallow hard as he had forgotten to breathe for a moment.

Rogue had not planned to linger around long, but in the end, he stayed till the end of the play. As the play ended with a standing ovation, Rogue joined the audience to their feet, clapping with enthusiasm.

“Lyon-san?” He called out, struggling to push through the crowd.

The mage was exiting the backstage, face scrubbed free of the glitter and silver dust. His hair looked dishevelled, as if he had run his fingers through them several times.

Lyon took one disinterested glance at him, raising a thin brow. He didn’t seem to recognize him, and Rogue didn’t know if he should feel disappointed or relieved.

“Rogue Cheney.” He introduced himself awkwardly. “We have not met... but I’ve seen you in a magazine before.”

 _Stupid! What kind of idiotic greeting was that?!_ It was far too late to take back his words anyway. At least Lyon didn’t look creeped out.

“You’re one of the Twin Dragons of Sabertooth.” Lyon acknowledged, recognition gleaming in his eyes. Then he looked around before glancing back at him in amusement. “You were watching the play?”

“Yeah, I was actually here to meet one of my informants.” He blushed. “But, uh, I decided to stay and watch the play. I didn’t know you... act.”

“It was a favour to my client.” Lyon laughed. “She had helped me greatly in the past and I couldn’t reject her when she called in a favour.”

The theatre was slowly clearing out, leaving only the troupe behind to clean up.

“I was just going to grab dinner. Do you want to join me?” Lyon asked, and then glanced around, as if someone else was going to pop up beside them. “Or are you heading back to your other half?”

“My... what?” Rogue stared at him in bewilderment. “Um, you mean Sting? We, uh, separated to search for information for our next mission. He’s at the next town over and will only be joining me tomorrow morning.” Clearing his throat, his cheeks pinked slightly. “I would like to join you for dinner, if you don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t ask if I mind.” Lyon smiled in bemusement.

Wondering why he was feeling all out of sorts around this man, Rogue chuckled nervously and decided to ignore his unease. He barely knew Lyon, and while his instincts screamed at him that there was a predator lurking beneath the amicability, Lyon would never hurt him without provocation. This was just acquaintances getting together for a dinner. Banishing the strange thoughts from his mind, Rogue quietly followed Lyon out of the theatre.

* * *

Dinner was... surprisingly nice. Rogue was, by nature, an introvert. He didn’t like to talk much, even with Sting and Frosch. He could sense that Lyon was not a very talkative man as well, but conversations flowed well between them throughout dinner.

Rogue felt relaxed around Lyon, in spite of his earlier reservations. Throughout dinner, he couldn’t help but notice... _well_ , everything about Lyon. The older man was attractive, obviously. There was a certain fey-like beauty in Lyon’s sharp features and slanting eyes. His smiles were as rare as his laughter, but when it happened, it sent a spike of heat through Rogue’s body.

It was... _maddening_.

“I’ll be heading back to my hotel.” He said, a little disappointed at how the evening had passed so quickly. They were both standing outside the restaurant, full and satisfied with their dinner.

“I’ll walk you back.” Lyon said. “It’s far too early to head back to mine anyway.”

Rogue opened his mouth to protest. He was not a damsel who needed protection in the dead of the night, but Lyon brushed his objections aside, an irritatingly small smirk dancing on his lips as he started walking. Rogue has no choice but to follow him.  

Lyon walked him right up to his doorstep, looking mightily satisfied and smug. Rogue was miffed, but he hadn’t mind the company.

“This is where I’ll leave you. I’ll be heading back home tomorrow morning.” Lyon smiled. “I’ll see you again.”

Rogue’s stomach clenched as the older man turned to leave.

“Lyon-san!” He blurted out. The other mage stopped and turned back around in curiosity. Whatever words on Rogue’s lips evaporated. With the light breeze ruffling the silver hair and the lamppost light behind him illuminating his lithe figure, Lyon was terribly, _achingly_ beautiful.

The unease he had been feeling the whole evening was simply attraction.

He took an unsteady step forward and kissed Lyon on the lips.

Then his impulsive deed caught up with his brain and he flung himself away from Lyon in embarrassment and shock. Avoiding Lyon’s undoubtedly judgemental eyes, he apologized profusely.

There was silence on the other end when he finally shut up, and he looked up nervously. Lyon was staring at him with a strange look on his face, lips pursed in contemplation. And then to his shock, Lyon drew him forward and kissed him fiercely. For a moment that felt like an eternity, Rogue was drowning. He thought that this might be a _fantastic_ way to die.

“Are you eighteen?” Lyon demanded, pulling away briefly to glare at him. He whimpered at the loss of contact, his gaze fixed on those beautiful, pale lips.

“W—What?” He slowly registered Lyon’s question and he stammered out a confused, “Yes? I just turned eighteen three months ago.”

“Good.” Lyon’s tension faded and he smiled, pushing Rogue into the hotel room. Without looking back, he locked the door shut behind him.

Just as the lock clicked into place, the two men crashed into each other, all ferocity and lustful kisses. They touched and pulled at each other’s clothes, landing on the bed.

“Have you done this with a man before?” Lyon questioned.

Rogue’s cheeks darkened, and he answered honestly, “N—No. But I have done this with a girl before, although... not – not all the way.”

He tugged at the hem of Lyon’s shirt, mildly offended as his hand was knocked away.

“Let me.” Lyon said bluntly, pushing him on his back and unbuttoning his clothes. Rogue felt cool air hit his bare chest and he yelped as his pants was shoved down. His indignation dispersed instantly as Lyon’s fingers wrapped around his half-hard cock.

He hadn’t had time to even articulate his thoughts, the back of his head hitting the bed with a dull thump as Lyon stroked him to full hardness.

“Lyon-san...” He moaned, his body trembling from the pleasure. Lyon was in complete control, and he knew it.

His pants were pulled down to his knees and— _oh_ , there were fingers up his ass, slippery and damp. His orgasm soon crashed down on him, and he came hard all over his belly.

Breathing heavily, he took a few minutes to regain back his breath. He blinked up at a smirking Lyon.

“You’re amazing.” He muttered, as Lyon climbed up and kissed him. He sat up dazedly, leaning on one elbow. He watched with growing appreciation as Lyon stripped, slowly revealing further more skin.

“What do you want from me, Rogue?” Lyon asked, dark eyes smouldering in the dim light.

 _On his back as Rogue fucked him and milked him dry and marked that pale skin with blood and teeth marks_ , he thought. Before he felt ashamed of his perverse fantasies.

“Nothing.” He stuttered, voice cracking slightly. _Liar_ , a voice hissed in his head.

“Come now, I doubt you kissed me on your doorstep to tell me you want nothing from me.” Lyon coaxed gently, dark eyes patient under his fringe of silver hair. It was a little unsettling, how Rogue wanted to reveal all his deepest, darkest secrets when Lyon spoke like that.

“I... I want to fuck you.” He said hoarsely, pale cheeks reddening at his bold request. But the older mage merely smiled and leaned forward, head cocked to the side. 

“Do you want me on my hands and knees, ass in the air as you fuck me?” He asked, almost clinical in his curiosity. He languidly rolled his hips on top of Rogue’s lap. “Or do you want to watch me ride you _here_?” He ran a chilled hand up Rogue’s thigh, sparking goosebumps over the latter’s skin. “Or maybe you want me on my back, with your hand on my cock and you fucking me into the bed?”

Rogue stuttered, flushing crimson. He already knew what he wanted before Lyon had even spoke, having harboured fantasies of what he would like to do to the older mage before they got to his bed.

“On your back, Lyon-san.” He croaked, inwardly congratulating himself for sounding steady.

Lyon smirked at him and shifted back immediately, reaching out to seize his collar and pulling him forward. Rogue immediately grabbed him around the waist and gently lay him down on the bed.

“I don’t have to tell you what to do next, right?” Lyon grinned.

Rogue leaned down and bit that smirking lips, his kiss forceful and lewd. He whined into Lyon’s mouth, separating briefly to suck his fingers wet.

And then he pressed Lyon down, sliding two spit-slick fingers up his ass. Lyon groaned in approval, arching his back and eyes fluttering close in pleasure. His legs opened further to accommodate Rogue between them, milk white thighs trembling. He curled his fingers into the bedsheets, dark nipples hardening as he panted. He was utterly unashamed of his nakedness, of Rogue’s hungry eyes devouring his bare skin.

The sight was better than Rogue could ever imagine. There was a sudden, insane thought that he was incredibly glad that Frosch had fallen sick this morning and was unable to follow him on his mission.

“Lyon-san, you’re so _tight_.” He said breathily, too heady to even feel embarrassed anymore. Lyon’s cock flushed red and full against his belly, long and beautiful.

The man was beautiful everywhere.

“Hurry up.” He ordered, dark eyes heavily lidded. He tugged at Rogue’s black hair, and Rogue instantly sucked against his throat in apology for the wait. A third finger slipped up his ass as he does so, and he flexed all three fingers upwards. Lyon’s body jolted in surprise, and he moaned deep beside Rogue’s ear.

Pulling his fingers out, Rogue sat back and gripped Lyon’s hips carefully, before leaning forward and positioning his cock against the puckered hole. There was slight resistance as he pushed in, and Lyon gasped in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

Encouraged, Rogue set his pace faster, invigorated by the older mage’s whimpers and gasps. He reached down to wrap his hand around Lyon’s cock, stroking him messily. Feeling brazen, he bended down to suck and bit at a pert nipple.

“Rogue!” Lyon growled, tightening his grip on the younger man’s hair. He was being fucked so hard he could feel the headboard slamming against the wall. He had to close his eyes to ride out the building pleasure. The pleasure was too much, and his skin was oversensitive and he was shaking so hard from the agony of wanting to _come_ already. He tried to rut up, but Rogue’s grip was strong and almost painful as he was held down and fucked.

He dug his fingers into Rogue’s shoulder desperately, a plead on his lips. Only stubborn pride stifled the plead from leaving his lips.

Rogue groaned and bit down onto Lyon’s shoulder as he came. He straightened up slightly and dragged Lyon forward, thrusting almost frantically as the last of his cum oozed out from between his thrusting cock and hole. Lyon’s cum spilled out over his front in thick ropes of white. He shuddered as he rode out the aftershocks, breathing slowly on the bed.

Rogue blinked down at his partner, shocked at his animalistic behaviour. And, well, the sex, in general.

“Are you going to stare the entire night?” Lyon’s brow raised mockingly, and he looked far too composed. It was totally unfair, Rogue thought, as he was the one who was thoroughly fucked and covered in cum and he has no right to look that serene.

“Just admiring.” He dared to retort, smiling slightly at Lyon’s smirk. And then he leaned down and started to clean the older man with his tongue.

The night wasn’t over yet, and this bedroom needed to be used more before he paid off the ridiculously expensive fee the next day anyway.   

 


	31. sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times Minerva left her marks on him and one time she kissed him instead of having sex.

i. The first time they had sex was also the first time they met.

It was two years after Fairy Tail vanished during their S-Class Exams. The search for the missing mages were dwindling, and Lyon was losing hope that he’ll ever find Gray again. It was the anniversary of Ur’s death as well, and he had taken time off from the guild, isolating himself from close friends and family. Grief and hopelessness had left him wanting to be left alone.

He ran into her at a casual bar in some quiet town far east. She had approached him with an interested smile, brought a drink for him and started a conversation.

He hadn’t fall into bed without knowing who she was, of course. Despite himself, he had mustered enough energy to entertain her conversation. When the bartender finally kicked them out, he had returned with her to her hotel.

When he woke up in the morning, she was gone – not that he minded. It was just a one-night stand after all. It was only as he was slipping on his clothes did he noticed the bruises across his throat. He ran his fingers over the bite marks, staring at his reflection in wonder. His naturally fair skin highlighted the darkening bruises on his throat even more obvious. It wasn’t just a small bite mark; it spread from his throat and down across his shoulder. As his thumb grazed across the bite, he felt a shudder down his spine.

He left town that day with his jacket zipped up to his throat and a scarf wrapped around his neck.

The marks only begun to fade a week later.

 

ii. They met quite a few times after that. Lyon never acknowledged that one night they shared together, and Minerva had pretended not to know him. No one suspected that they even slept together before.

Lyon was contented for it to stay that way.

That’s why he couldn’t understand when he found himself shoved up against a door, hands holding his wrists beside his head and lips mouthing at his throat. They had gathered during the annual meeting for the Guild Masters this time around, and Minerva had ignored him the whole time the meeting was ongoing, stuck by her father’s side.

The worst thing was that he wasn’t pushing her away, meeting her lips with equal enthusiasm. He vaguely registered that Jiemma was just rooming _next door_. With that thought in mind, he bit down on his bottom lip to muffle his gasps.

Minerva flashed a quick, dangerous smirk up at him, as if she could read his mind. Her grip tightened around his wrist, hard enough to _hurt_. Any thought of being quiet vanished instantly.

The next day, he kept his sleeves covered up till his fingers, hoping to god that nobody – especially Ooba, _fuck_ –  doesn’t notice the finger-shaped bruises around his wrists.

 

iii. The Grand Magic Games in year X791 marked the beginning of a new era as Fairy Tail made their comeback.

Lyon had not seen Minerva around during Sabertooth Guild’s introduction. It didn’t really bother him, although it had been a little disappointing as he has been itching to fight with her ever since they met.

He has heard of her prowess, even witnessed it in previous Grand Magic Games, and he wanted to test his own abilities against her.

When she showed up halfway through the event, and proceeded to _torture_ Lucy in front of the entire world, he resolved to stay away from her.

He should have known that his resolve would be broken by her, when she had him pinned against a wall just hours after being utterly horrified by her brutal display.

She has always been a vicious lover, but this time, her fingers burned across his bare body and left reddened marks that would be sure to bruise in a couple of hours.

They fucked just right behind Domas Flau, where anyone patrolling the edge of the arena would be able to see them. He didn’t know if it’s because of the risk of being caught in public, or the ferocity of her kisses and the possessive grip on his waist, but it was the first time an orgasm left him trembling and boneless on the ground.

She vanished soon after the Grand Magic Games, but her marks remained on his body for days.

 

iv. The next time he saw her, she was sitting in his living room. There were strange marks over her body, like black vines that tattooed into her flesh. A pair of horns sat atop her head, and her outfit had changed into something more provocative.

She looked up in disinterest when he entered the apartment, not even blinking when he stiffened and subtly slipped into a defensive stance.

After a few minutes of a stare-off, where Lyon was obviously not going to win, he gave up and decided to try to ignore the urge to throw her out of his house.

She remained silent the entire time as he placed a cup of green tea in front of her. There was something dark in her gaze when she watched him, her stare unblinking and unsettling. It felt different, where she used to be so lively and passionate, even for all the wrong reasons.

In another different world, he could have turned out like her.

She finished her tea, even washed the utensils, and then followed him into the room and joined him in bed.

This time, she left immediately after she got her release. He lay on his stomach, not bothering to stop her. She had left scratches down his back, and the blood was still drying on his skin.

He didn’t want to understand her. He didn’t want to know her, but he regretted, just a little – for not having the courage to speak to her and make her stay.

 

v. Fairy Tail disbanded, Makarov disappeared, Jura left the guild to become a Council Member, and Minerva had apparently returned to Sabertooth.

It was strange how everything could change in a split moment. It felt like the whole world had been upheaved, but in reality, the world had continued spinning on even as things fall apart.

He had thought things between Minerva and himself was over after that day when she left with blood on his skin and nothing in her gaze.

It’s funny how she could hurt him this much every time they fucked. It’s even funnier that he allowed her to hurt him. Maybe he’s a sick masochist. Maybe he’s just a _weak_ man.

But when she came to him again, looking more like her old self – but also drastically different in a manner, he didn’t resist.

She fucked him with a quiet desperation that she displayed with every move of her body, holding onto him as if he might slip from her fingers any moment. Her lips left broken veins and bruises and blood smudged across his pale skin, a wretched attempt to cover every inch of his flesh with her teeth and touch.

They have never before spoken with each other after they were done every time, but this time, she stared at him with a strange look in her eyes and whispered his name against his forehead. A lump formed in his throat and he pretended he didn’t hear her. It was better this way, to remain oblivious.

This was going to be the last time, he promised.

 

* * *

The world gone on as always, cruel, apathetic thing it was, with no care that a war had nearly stolen the lives of his friends and destroyed an entire country.

Life was back to normal after the war, with Lamia Scale trying their best to rebuild their guild and home. They had lost people they knew and loved, their home and city was decimated in a blink of an eye, but they were still family. And family stuck together.

So life continued on for Lyon and his comrades. There was nothing one could do but moved on and continued walking.

Months later, things were starting to look up. With all the chaos the war had left behind, jobs started coming in again. It kept Lyon occupied for months, something to take his mind off Ooba’s increasingly bad health and the stress and workload on his shoulders.

Studying his train ticket halfway, he glanced up as footsteps approached him. The war had made him paranoid and vigilant of his surroundings and it’s a habit he’s trying to break.

“Are you heading home?” Minerva smiled politely, looking far more unsure than she has ever looked in her entire life.

“Yes.” He mentally patted his own back for managing not to sound like a fool in front of her.

She gave him a tentative smile as a train pulled into the station. She showed him her own ticket.

“Can I join you?” She asked.

Things have always been strange between the both of them. They weren’t friends, and they were barely even acquaintances. It would be odd to call them strangers. Strangers don’t fuck each other at almost every encounter, right?

“Alright,” He agreed, hoping that he wouldn’t regret his decision.

The smile she gave him was slow and hesitant, but no less brilliant. His heart ached when he saw it. This was the first time she has ever smiled at him.

Conversation got easier throughout the journey, as he slowly let down his guard and relaxed around her.

It was astonishing to see the _real_ Minerva underneath all the pain and hatred and anger. He wondered what would have happen, if he had met her in different circumstances, if their first encounter hadn’t been in a bar at some no-name town, with him grieving and drowning his sorrows with alcohol and her looking for someone to take to bed that night.

It was too late for regrets now, and when it’s time for him to get off the train, he’s glad that at least they could be friends now.

“Lyon?” Minerva said hesitantly. When he turned around, she stepped up and gently pressed her lips against his. Her hand was cold against the curve of his head, but there was no pressure, no possessive hold in her touch. It was slightly surreal.

“I hope—” She started nervously. “That we can continue seeing each other. Not... Not to have sex!” She stammered, and she looked almost adorable as she hurried to explain. “But to hang out as... as friends. If it’s alright with you?”

Maybe it’s possible to start over. To try again once more. He gazed at her face, at the earnest expression and her honest eyes. She might be a different person now, but there’s still an underlying danger just under the surface. He could never forget that.

But he doesn’t want to forget the woman before as well, even if he wanted to learn the real Minerva now. So he looked at her nervous smile and took her hand and doesn’t regret it.  


End file.
